


As the Devil Fights

by orphan_account



Series: As the Devil Fights [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Grant Ward Is A Villain, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra Grant Ward, M/M, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, POV Steve Rogers, anti stand with ward, grant ward is the worst, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3252611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hydra has won. Captain America is captured and de-serumed, and Skye has been spared a gruesome death, so that Garrett can give her to Ward as a gift. Steve and Skye plot to escape, when no one is watching. Alternating Steve and Skye POV. </p><p>This is Skyeward, but it is <strong>entirely nonconsensual and horrible.</strong> Grant Ward is not a good person in this story. <strong>If this bothers you, please do not read.</strong> The Skyeward is definitely not endgame. Eventually, Skye ends up happy, I promise. The Stucky will show up a little later, in chapter 3 or so, and it is just as wonderful as the Skyeward is terrible. I really enjoyed writing Steve and Bucky, and I had to grit my teeth while writing the Skyeward, so take that as you will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Judas

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of my ex in Ward. There's a lot of my own personal experience in this story. I'm putting Skye through hell because it's cheaper than therapy, and because I like torturing my favorite characters. I hope you enjoy this story; if you don't enjoy it, I hope you get something out of it. 
> 
> I plan on writing two or three sequels to this fic, so stay tuned for that as well. 
> 
> Thank you to Andrea and [romans](http://archiveofourown.org/users/romans/pseuds/romans) for the beta, and for cheering me through the hard parts!! You guys are awesome.
> 
> By the way, if you don't like the fact that I've tagged this as skyeward, I urge you to read [my explanation](http://threepiohasnochill.tumblr.com/post/109515803244/ive-had-my-fic-up-for-four-hours-and-have-already) for doing so.

Skye looked up the instant she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway – her guard was keying open the barrier of the cell opposite hers, shoving a small blonde man inside. He was wearing the same orange jumpsuit they had given her – it was hanging off of him, slightly.  “You can’t _do_ this!” shouted the man, his voice surprisingly deep. “Let me go!”

The guard laughed. “Not a chance, _Cap_ ,” he said, rudely. “I’ve got my orders. You’re here until my S.O. says otherwise. He entered a code on the keypad and the transparent barrier descended again, sealing the skinny man into his cell.

The man made fists and looked up at the guard. “Listen to me, Rumlow, you filthy traitor,” he hissed, his voice cold. “I am going to get out of here, and I am going to find you, and I am going to kill you. This is your last chance; get me out of here, and I might show you some mercy.”

The big man grinned. “You don’t scare me, Rogers. You don’t scare anyone. I could squish you like a bug, you runt. You’re property of HYDRA now. Your ass is ours.” He turned and left; his laughter could be heard echoing throughout the corridor long after he left.

The man’s thin shoulders slumped forward. He hung his head and was silent.

“Uh…. hey,” said Skye, awkwardly.

The man’s head shot up, and he stared in her direction; he evidently hadn’t noticed her crouching in the opposite cell. His blue eyes were unusually sharp and piercing. “Hi,” he said, after a moment.

“You’re Steve Rogers,” said Skye. She gave him a half smile. “You’re Captain America,” she said, drawing out the syllables, shaking invisible pom-poms.

Rogers barked out a laugh, harsh and hollow. “Captain Steve Rogers, reporting for duty,” he said, saluting in a mockery of military discipline. “Not that I can do anything, not like this,” he said, gesturing to himself, voice dripping with bitterness.

“They… de-serum you, or something?” asked Skye, looking at him from where she sat. He hunched his shoulders and wrapped his arms around himself, making him look even smaller.

“Yeah, they did something to me. When they knocked me out, I was big; when I woke up, I was small again,” he said, sitting down, putting his back against the wall opposite hers. He was so fragile looking, thought Skye. It was hard to imagine that this guy had actually once been Captain America.

“It was the centipede program,” said Skye. Steve looked at her sharply. “They figured out how to make supersoldiers, maybe they also figured out how to de-supersoldier someone,” said Skye, voice faltering. “I don’t know how that science would work, Simmons might be able to tell you –“ she found it hard to keep talking, at the mention of her friend. She looked down, blinking hard.

“Maybe,” said Steve darkly, and Skye was grateful that he seemed to ignore her distress. “But I think this was something Pierce must have been working on for a long time – a way to try and control me, get me out of the picture. Killing me would have been too kind, I guess,” he said. “I get to watch as those Nazi bastards take over the country, without being able to do anything about it. I suppose Pierce thinks this is funny.”

“I’m sorry,” said Skye, quietly. “I don’t know why I’m alive, either, actually,” she said, heavily. “I was pulled out at the last minute, right before they killed my entire team; Garrett said he needed me alive for something. Wouldn’t tell me what.” She swallowed hard, remembered stopping cold in the corridor as she heard the shots behind her – meant for Fitz, Simmons, Coulson, and May in succession – and stumbling as the Hydra guards pulled her along, cursing at her clumsiness.

“John Garrett,” said Steve, his voice laced with hatred. “I ran missions with that bastard. I trusted him with my life. Another one of Pierce’s goddamn lackeys.”

“He was so kind to me when I finally got my badge,” said Skye, head tilting back, remembering. “I remember thinking that this was someone I could trust.” She laughed. “I guess I’ve never been very good at picking people who were good for me,” she said.

“You’re a SHIELD agent?” asked Rogers, looking at her carefully.

“Yeah,” said Skye, sadly. “Well, for about two weeks, I was. Don’t think there’s a SHIELD anymore to be part of. Name’s Skye,” she said.

“Nice to meet you, Skye,” said Rogers. “Pretty name.” Skye smiled, embarrassed. There was something incongruous about his polite manners and their desperate situation.

“I worked on Agent Coulson’s team,” said Skye, feeling hollow. She remembered at the last minute that Coulson’s continued existence was classified information, but under the circumstances, she didn’t think he would have blamed her for breaking protocol.

“Coulson’s alive?” asked Rogers, sharply. “Figures,” he said, sounding disgusted. “I swear to god, no one tells me anything.” Skye wanted to laugh at that – it was oddly comforting to know that Captain America himself had also run up against SHIELD’s irritating culture of secrecy.

“They brought him back from the dead. It’s kind of a long story. And well… he’s not exactly alive anymore,” said Skye, shooting him a sad smile.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Steve, after a pause. “Phil Coulson was a good man.”

“The best,” said Skye, quietly.

They fell into silence, each mourning their losses, and wondering what life would bring next.

 

* * *

 

It was strange, how easy it was to settle into a routine, thought Skye, even in their desperate situation. Their lives were predictable, punctuated by three visits every day when a nurse would drop off their meals and collect their old trays. After the third day, she stopped fearing that their caretaker was really there to take her away and put a bullet in her head. Every two days they were taken to the showers. Once a week, a nurse (accompanied by three burly guards) came to take a sample of Steve’s blood, and give him an injection.

Skye and Steve talked to fill the time, learning more about each other for want of little else to do. Skye had read Steve’s file, of course – it was one of the first things she had done when she had received access to SHIELD’s servers, she had always been curious about the Captain America legend – but Steve told her the real story, the human story. He told her how badly it had hurt when Bucky had fallen, what it was like seeing Peggy in a nursing home, not aware of where she was, how much he was worried for Natasha and Sam, how he wasn’t sure whether they had been captured along with him during the battle at the Triskelion. And Skye told him how close she had become to Coulson, how she missed FitzSimmons every day, how Ward and May had been such good mentors.

They talked about why they had been spared. Steve was now convinced that they were keeping him around so that they could have a steady supply of his blood, scientific miracle that he was. Skye was almost jealous of his certainty, and wished she knew what her purpose was. After all, she was a nonentity in SHIELD, a level 1 agent who had only made the ranks by the skin of her teeth. She had no intelligence value, no skills that Hydra seemed to be interested in. It was almost as if her continued existence was a clerical error, like someone had put her file in the “live” pile by accident. She didn’t know when they’d realize their mistake.

A month after her imprisonment, Skye found out why she had been spared.

It happened between lunch and dinner. They had been playing a game of twenty questions that Skye was on the verge of winning. Steve lifted his finger to his lips, and they listened to the footsteps growing louder and louder as they echoed down the corridor. Skye stood up, stomach turning. This wasn’t expected, this visit hadn’t come at the right time.

The door slid open and Ward walked in – Skye was on her feet instantly. “Ward,” she cried, her voice breaking, tears springing to her eyes. “You’re here,” she said, not caring how, just so, so happy to see him alive and in one piece. He stared back at her as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, like he wasn’t sure she was really there in front of him. The way he stared was unnerving – like he was drinking her in, like she was water to a man dying of thirst. He looked different; hadn’t shaved in a few days. He was dressed like one of them – all in black, like a Hydra agent. He must have gone to considerable lengths to get his hands on that uniform.

Panic set in as Skye realized Ward was in danger. “You have to get out of here, Grant,” she hissed. “There are cameras,” she said, pointing at the corners of the room. “They’ll know you’re here.” Ward’s eyes widened in surprise, he moved his mouth but nothing came out. “Ward?” asked Skye, concerned. He was acting so strangely.

“Yeah, cameras,” said Ward, finally. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t used it in a few days. “Don’t worry about them, no one’s watching this,” he muttered, not looking at her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“How are you here? How are you alive?” asked Skye, tearfully, stepping forward, placing her hands on the barrier, which glowed orange under her touch. “Are May and Coulson alive too?”

“Skye, don’t talk to him,” said Steve, his voice cold. Both Skye and Ward looked at him – he was standing up, hands in fists, staring at Ward with something like hatred in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” asked Skye, confused. “Steve, this is Grant Ward, my S.O.. He’s come here to get us out.”

“No he hasn’t,” said Steve, tightly. “He’s one of them, Skye.”

Skye laughed, incredulous. “Ward? Hydra? Not a chance,” she said, looking at Ward for confirmation. He looked stricken, and said nothing.

“I saw him talking with Garrett when they brought me in,” said Steve. “I’m sorry, Skye, but he’s Hydra.”

Skye stared at Ward and saw the truth written on his face – he swallowed uncomfortably, and looked down, no longer able to meet her gaze.

“You’re Hydra?” asked Skye, her voice small, hating how childish she sounded. “You’re with them? You…?” He didn’t respond. She stared at him in silence, taking in his clothing, realization dawning on her.

A wave of rage hit her then, shocking her with its intensity. “You,” she shouted, slamming her hand on the barrier, which turned red. “How could you? They killed Fitz and Simmons, you bastard,” she screamed. “They’re dead. Where were you? Hanging out with your Hydra buddies while your friends died?”

“It’s not like that, okay?” said Ward, indignantly, looking at her. “Look, I didn’t–“

“You’re a liar,” hissed Skye, slamming her fist on the barrier again. “You lied to me. You’re evil. They killed our team, they’re going to kill me, and you’re letting it happen. Oh my god, that’s why you killed the clairvoyant,” she gasped. “You’ve been lying this entire time. Playing us. Playing me. You kissed me!” she said, revolted. “You fucking kissed me! Was that for Hydra too?”

“No!” shouted Ward, looking panicked. “No, that was real, Skye! I had feelings for you! I _have_ feelings for you!” he said, desperately.

Skye stared at him in shock. “You’re pathetic,” she said flatly. “Why are you even here, Ward? Here to gloat?”

At that moment, the door opened and Garrett walked in. “Thought I’d give you two lovebirds a moment to reconnect,” said Garrett, smiling gregariously at Ward. Ward straightened up automatically in Garrett’s presence, clasping his hands behind his back, looking every inch the proper soldier. Skye felt as if she’d be sick. Garrett glanced at Skye, taking in her furious expression. “Guess she’s figured it out, huh?”

“We’ve clarified a few things, sir,” said Ward, quietly. He kept his eyes firmly on his boss, not looking at Skye.

“Clarified that you’re both fucking fascist asshats,” said Skye, voice dripping with fury.

“Your girl certainly has a way with words, Ward,” said Garrett, laughing, slapping him on the back. “You’ve got a strange taste in women, I gotta say.”

“John, why am I here?” asked Ward, his voice stilted. “Why did I have to come down here?”

“Come on, Grant,” said Garrett. “This is me, trying to do something nice for you. You neutralized the Falcon yesterday, that means you get a reward. Well, here’s your reward!” He pointed his thumb at Skye.

“You mean Sam’s dead,” said Steve, his voice heavy. 

“Not quite, Cap,” said Garrett, turning towards Steve’s cell. “Captured. Thanks to my boy here,” he said, pointing at Ward. “We’ve got plans for your little friend.” Garrett walked up to Steve and lowered his voice, “Let’s just say that you’d be amazed at how much mind control technology has advanced in the last ten years. Your bird is going to be flying for us, pretty soon.”

“You’re not going to win,” said Steve, a strange, tight smile painted on his face. “You captured me, but you didn’t kill me. That was your big mistake. You and Pierce are dead men walking.”

“Sure, pipsqueak,” said Garrett, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say.” He turned back towards Ward and Skye. “Grant, I’m giving you three hours with your girl. We’ve got a private room set up for you, just you and her. Think of it as a little thank you present from Hydra, for your continued and dedicated service. Have fun with her. You know what I mean,” he said, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” said Ward quietly. Garrett left the room, leaving Ward in between a furious Skye and a seething Steve. Skye stared at Ward, who looked back, somberly.

Skye opened her mouth to speak, but Steve pre-empted her. “That’s your reward, huh, big guy?” said Steve, his voice low and mean. Skye could tell he was barely holding it together. “You feel rewarded, right now? Do a trick for your masters and they let you fuck a girl?”

Skye inhaled, eyes filling with tears at Steve’s words, not taking her eyes off Ward. A wordless horror filled her. Ward stared at her, transfixed.

“You feel good about yourself, you Hydra bastard?” Steve continued angrily, not paying attention to Skye’s distress.

At that, Ward turned towards Steve. “Yeah, you runt, I do feel pretty fucking good about myself. At least I’m not the one locked up.”

“Good one, Ward,” said Steve, baring his teeth in a feral grin. “That’s some stellar goddamn wit you got there. We’ll see who’s laughing when I get out of here, you piece of shit.”

Ward laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re over, Cap. Deal with it,” he said. He turned back towards Skye, gave her one more searching look, and walked over to the side of her cell, entering something onto the keypad, neutralizing the invisible barrier.

He took a step forward, into Skye’s cell. She stepped back automatically, trying to put as much distance between her and him as possible. He slowly shortened the distance between them, raising his hands, approaching her as if she was a scared wild animal. Her back hit the wall and there was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to hide from Ward; Ward, who was coming closer and closer. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head, tears falling from her cheeks.

“Skye,” said Ward slowly, his hands up.

“Please don’t do this, Ward,” she said, ashamed of how she was pleading. “Please. If you’ve ever felt something for me, anything, don’t do this to me.”

“You know I have to,” he said, almost sadly, and she bolted, sprinting towards the door, and for a brief, brief second, she thought she had made it – and then she was on the floor, her cheek pressed against the cold cement, arms pinned behind her back, Ward’s knee pressing into her spine.

She screamed in her frustration, long and loud, and he pulled her up to her knees. She hung off of him limply, not willing to give him an ounce of help, tears falling off the end of her nose, hair falling in front of her eyes. This couldn’t be happening to her.

“Get up, Skye,” hissed Ward, angrily. She ignored him, tried to become a dead weight in his arms, huffing out her tears. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he said, louder this time. She ignored him, pulling down. He groaned in frustration, and released her arms, dropping her on the floor. She immediately tried to crawl away – he muttered a frustrated “no,” and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her up into a standing position. She yelped in pain, and he threw her against the wall, hard. She hit the side of her head on the concrete and cried out as she saw stars.

She wavered, but Ward grabbed her by the shoulders, and pushed her up against the wall. He held her chin firm in one hand as he lifted her eyelids, examining her eyes, checking to make sure she was still conscious and not concussed. He squeezed the hand holding her face and shook her slightly for emphasis. “Do _not_ do that again, Skye,” he hissed, eyes wide with something very much like panic.

“Fuck you,” said Skye, spitting the words in hatred. She swallowed and stared back at Ward, a cold fury welling up in her.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” muttered Ward, reaching his free hand into his back pocket for something. He pulled her arms to her front, and with a click, her wrists were bound by solid-looking handcuffs. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her by an arm, pulling her towards the door.

As Ward led Skye out of the room, she looked back behind her towards Steve’s cell, and saw him staring back at her, eyes wide with horror, tear-tracks running down his cheeks. Blind fury was written on his every feature. _I’ll come back to you_ , she wanted to say, but couldn’t quite make the words come out.

 

* * *

 

Ward opened the door and tossed Skye into the room, slamming the door behind him and entering a locking code onto the keypad next to the door. He put his hand on the door and sighed, paying no attention to Skye – she took the opportunity to search her new environment for a tool, a weapon she could use to bludgeon him with. There was nothing to be found. The room was stark and empty, with only a double bed and a small bedside table; no handy fireplace with accompanying (and convenient) fire pokers, no coat stand to shove into Ward’s crotch when he least expected it.

Ward turned towards Skye and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground and saying nothing. If Skye didn’t know any better, if she didn’t know that he was a lousy, lying, evil, _Nazi_ bastard, she’d say he looked miserable.

“If you try anything, I will bite your fucking testicles off,” she growled.

Ward peered at her from under his eyebrows, that searching look that she used to find so erotic, so _mysterious_ , now she just wanted to tear it off his stupid, ugly face, the disgusting, miserable, evil fuck – and said nothing.

“Did you hear me, Ward?” she said, taking a step closer to him. She tilted her head to the side and dropped her voice a note or two. “I will fucking murder you if you try to rape me,” she said, menacingly.

“Not up to me, kid,” he said quietly, voice heavy. He glanced at the surveillance camera nestled in the corner of the room. “We’re being watched.”

“And you have to do what your fucking S.O. tells you to do, right? He tells you to fuck the prisoner, you fuck the prisoner,” said Skye, voice laced with hatred.

“They suspect me, Skye. They think I’m not loyal. I… I didn’t show absolute dedication to the cause, during the takeover. I’m being watched,” he said, in a low voice.

“So fucking _escape_ ,” hissed Skye. “Break me and Steve out. Fight this. Fight them. I know you, Ward,” she said, her voice breaking. “I thought I knew you. The Ward I knew wouldn’t let himself be ordered around like this, wouldn’t be forced to do something so evil,” said Skye.

Ward laughed then, a harsh, ugly sound. It sounded nothing like her reserved superior officer, the man who rarely laughed, the man who rarely smiled, except when she had done something to earn it, except when he was kissing her. “You have no idea – _no idea_ – what I’m capable of doing, Skye,” he said, his voice mean. “Get on the bed.”

“No,” said Skye, but it was a half-hearted objection. Her head still pounded from being slammed into the wall, earlier. She knew what Ward could do to her – the training she had received at his hands was nowhere near what she needed in order to take someone of his caliber down. She wasn’t May.

“Skye, get on the bed,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child.

She sniffed loudly and clambered onto the bed, pressing her knees to her chest, watching him warily. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, his torso twisted towards her. He reached out and brushed hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She watched him, tense.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking her hair. Skye shuddered, not trying to hide her disgust. Ward inched closer to her, and cupped her cheek with his hand. He pulled her face close to his and kissed her lightly. Skye kept her eyes open and her lips tightly pursed, even as his kisses grew heavier. He gripped her ear and twisted it, hard – she made a broken noise and parted her lips, involuntarily – his tongue slipped inside her mouth. They kissed for a while, Ward forcefully plumbing her mouth with his tongue, his hand kneading the back of her neck.

All of a sudden, Skye bit down hard, and Ward jerked away, cursing, hand over his mouth. Skye stared at him, a proud gleam in her eye as he swore, again, feeling his tongue and checking to see whether or not she drew blood. He looked at her with rage and slapped her hard, sending her flying into the pillows.

“That’s how you want to do this, huh?” Ward yelled, grabbing her by the hair like he did before, wrenching her head up, shaking her.

“I’m not going to make this easy for you, Ward,” said Skye, calmly, dimly aware that he had split her lip open. “I’m not going to pretend I want this.”

Ward threw her down and grabbed her left arm, still chained to the right. “You are a very, very stupid girl, Skye,” said Ward, as he unlocked the handcuffs. “Don’t know what’s good for you. I can make things easy for you, I can get you out of that cell. You just have to fucking cooperate with me a little, and we can figure this out, together.” He locked her left arm to a bracket on the corner of the bed that horrifyingly seemed to be constructed specifically for the purpose of attaching handcuffs.

“You’re sick,” spat Skye, as Ward rooted in the nightstand for a second pair of handcuffs, which he then used to lock her right wrist to the opposite corner of the bed.

“Think whatever you want, baby,” said Ward darkly, throwing a leg over her and straddling her hips, staring down at her with a grin. Her Ward had never smiled as easily as this one did. Skye didn’t like it. His hands came to lightly rest on her collarbones. “You don’t have that many options right now, so if I were you I’d lie back and think of England.”

“Fuck you,” said Skye, through gritted teeth. She stared at the ceiling determinedly, refusing to look at him.

Ward shrugged. “Have it your way, then,” he said, his hands dipping down to the first button of her jumpsuit, which he undid slowly, feeling the skin revealed underneath, pressing his fingers into it. Skye resolutely did not look at him, even though she knew it would make him mad. She was right – he made an irritated noise and ripped the jumpsuit apart, sending buttons flying. She cried out and Ward laughed, actually laughed. He sat up, took a switchblade out of his pocket, flipped it open and began tossing it from hand to hand.

“Come on, Skye,” he said, mockingly, straddling her. I taught you better than this. Fight me. Use my strength against me.” Tears of anger pricked at Skye’s eyes – she willed them away. He fell on top of her, hands gripping her bound arms. He dipped down to kiss her again, this time (wisely) forgoing the use of his tongue, gripping her face with his hand. He bit her lower lip and pulled with his teeth, before releasing it. “You’re mine,” he whispered, squeezing her chin and giving her a final peck on the lips. “You’ve always been mine. I knew it from the second I saw you.” He pulled down to bite and nuzzle at her neck, sucking hard, ignoring her as she gasped. He was making his marks above the neckline of her jumpsuit, she realized, feeling dizzy with pain. She wouldn’t be able to hide them with clothing. _Steve would see_ , she thought, somewhat hysterically. She tried to curl her body inwards and push him away, but the grip he had on her was too firm. She felt his hands clutch at her hard and she felt a jolt somewhere below her belly. She felt flooded with wetness. This was actually turning her on, she thought, wanting to die.

Ward made a hungry sound and rolled his hips against hers, letting the hard outline of his cock dig into her, filling her with revulsion and fear. “Stop,” she muttered automatically, her whole body tensing against his. Ward ignored her, of course, and made his way down her chest, biting and sucking between her breasts.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he said, taking his switchblade and slicing open the front of the cloth bra that had been given to her, cupping and squeezing the breasts that sprang free from their containment. He bit down hard on her left breast, sucking on her nipple until it was painfully tender – she couldn’t help but cry out in pain. He did the same to her right breast, before sitting up and slapping it, hard.

She felt exposed as she lay there with him on top, fully clad. She tried to look anywhere but at him, tried to go to a happy place as he pawed at the small of her waist, gripping and kneading the skin there, rocking his crotch into hers, slowly, grunting like an animal. She thought of sitting at the breakfast nook with Coulson, sharing a joke with him, calling him “A.C.”. Longing filled her, a heavy want that invaded her mind, and she sobbed out loud, tears slipping out the edge of her eyes. Ward took no notice.

He ripped her jumpsuit open at the crotch, staring at her as he pushed himself down her body. His gaze drifted down to the area between her legs; he traced his finger along her folds, covered by simple white panties. She clenched her thighs together – Ward took no mind, just shoved his finger against her, harder. “You feel hot, down here,” he said, pushing in. Skye shuddered as he brushed against her clit, inadvertently. “And wet,” he continued, in a conversational tone. “I can feel how much you want this. You’ve always wanted this, haven’t you?” he said, rubbing her harder.

“Fuck you,” said Skye, between grit teeth.

“We’ll get to that, soon enough,” said Ward, chuckling. “Patience, dear.” He forced her thighs open easily and settled between them, resting on his forearms. He played with the switchblade, tossing it from hand to hand. He teased her – drew the cold blade across the bones of her hips and let the tip drift below the band of her panties. She tried to control her breathing, tried to make sure she remained as still as possible so he wouldn’t feel the urge to cut her. Moving swiftly, he cut her out of her panties, wadding them up and throwing them across the room.

Skye gasped at her sudden nakedness and tried to curl her body inwards again. Ward prevented her from doing so by pressing down on her thighs, keeping her flat and spread-eagled against the bed. “Skye, just relax. Just close your eyes and let yourself enjoy this,” he said, seriously; sounding for a second like the old Ward, not the demon who was wearing his face. Skye said nothing. “I’m going to make this as good for you as possible, I promise,” he continued, kissing the wiry curls on her mound.

Skye laughed bitterly, as he continued kissing down into her cunt, until he was lightly kissing her clitoris. She jerked her body as jolts of pleasure hit her. This was _Ward_ , doing this to her, she thought, as if to remind herself how fucked up this situation was. This wasn’t some random assault, this was her friend, her S.O., the guy she thought she could have a future with. This was someone who she had trusted with her life, betraying her in the worst way possible. _Never forgive him for this_ , she told herself.

He dragged a finger up and down her wet slit while he circled her clit with his tongue, and penetrated her softly. His fingers felt big and intrusive inside her, and Skye shuddered, half with revulsion, half with want. He added a second finger and crooked them just so, massaging her from the inside. Ward knew what he was doing, thought Skye, in a daze, just before pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless and limp as a ragdoll. Judging by the way he was smirking at her, she must have screamed out loud as she came, thought Skye. She cursed herself for her lack of control.

“You done yet?” she asked in a flat tone, staring at the ceiling.

“Not yet, Skye,” said Ward, coming up her body and wrapping his big arms around her torso, hugging her tight. He nestled his face in between her neck and shoulder, kissing the skin he found there, leaving wet prints. He was _cuddling her_ , thought Skye, in horror. He wanted to cuddle, after making her come with his fingers and his mouth. “Relax,” said Ward, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Skye knew the threat that hid behind that order – despite herself, she forced her body to relax, degree by degree. She consciously released the muscles in her neck and limbs, though she couldn’t stop her heart from jackhammering in her chest.

Ward began kissing her neck in earnest – _he seems to have a thing for that spot_ , noted Skye, absently – and grinding his hips into her. He was still hard, she realized. Of course he was, she thought, groaning, slightly – he hadn’t touched himself, all the focus had been on her, so far. He started sucking at her skin again, making new marks to humiliate her with. Suddenly he sat up, reached over to the nightstand, and retrieved something; the sound the wrapper made told Skye that he had grabbed a condom. She was flooded with panic, and she desperately tried to think of a way to get this to stop.

“What do they have on you, Ward?” she whispered, loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for any security cameras to pick it up. “Why do you have to do this?” She craned her neck up to see what he was doing, and wished she hadn’t; his cock was out, and he was rolling the condom on with one hand.

“I let Coulson and May and FitzSimmons go,” said Ward, softly, falling over her and using one hand to guide himself into her. He looked into her eyes as he pushed all the way into her in one stroke – Skye’s mouth fell open and she cried out a broken sob as he filled her to the hilt. Ward was not small, and her body didn’t particularly want to take him in. It took a second to process what Ward had told her. He started to move, rocking into her slightly, back and forth, still looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. “They’re alive?” she asked, as he began to withdraw and slide back into her.

“They’re AWOL,” said Ward, before lowering his lips to her temple, kissing her sweetly, almost chastely. He gripped her hips and groaned, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back into her, causing her to buck and gasp. “It was stupid of me. Showed weakness. I’ve been in the doghouse with Garrett ever since,” he panted, hips pistoning in and out of her. He sat up and threw her legs over his shoulders, changing the angle so that he could reach even deeper into her. He fucked her and stared down at her, eyes glazed over with pleasure, before falling forward, bending her in half almost painfully.

 _They’re alive, they’re alive, they’re alive_ , thought Skye, not daring to look away from Ward as he fucked her hard. “Skye,” panted Ward. “Oh god, Skye,” he whined. _He’s just babbling_ , thought Skye, disgusted. _Big baby can’t control himself._ “You feel so good, sweetheart, just like I thought you would.” _Stop fucking talking_ , she thought, and wondered how much of their three hours had passed; how much more of this she’d have to take.

Skye wondered how often she’d be forced to do this, how often she’d have to _perform_ for Ward – whenever he did something Garrett deemed worthy of a reward, she guessed. This was why she had been kept alive; she was to serve as a fuckdoll for Hydra. She felt like laughing, but she had never heard anything less funny in her life. Ward buried his fingers in her hair and pressed his face into the side of her head, fucking her harder and faster. She could hardly breathe, she was so contorted. Finally – finally – he cried out and came, pumping the condom full, shuddering to a stop. He remained on top of her for a few too-long seconds, before pushing himself off and slipping out of her,  reaching over her to throw away the condom.

He collapsed next to her on his back, lying on her outstretched arm that was still chained to the bed. He stretched his arms out and yawned, uncurling in post-coital bliss.

“So, you’re a sociopath,” said Skye, conversationally. The space between her legs ached. Ward looked over at her in surprise, and then laughed, the same laugh he used to give her when she surprised him during a training session with a funny joke, or witty observation.

“Definitely not a sociopath,” said Ward, lightly. “Trust me, I’m nowhere near as bad as some of the people I work with.”

“Yeah, are you going to explain that to me?”

“Explain what?” said Ward.

“Explain why you work for the bad guys?”

“Oh, that,” said Ward, easily. “I mean, it’s not so much a loyalty to Hydra as it is an obligation to Garrett.” He checked his watch, frowning at the time. “Man gave me everything. I’d be in a federal penitentiary if it weren’t for him.”

“Where you most likely belong,” said Skye, calmly.

“That’s one interpretation,” said Ward. “God, I really missed talking to you, Skye,” he said, looking over at her seriously, a slight smile on his lips. Skye suppressed a shudder. “Seriously, they let me think you were dead. I was miserable,” he said.

“Good,” she said.

“Ice queen,” he said, rolling his eyes and smirking. “Are you ever going to smile at me ever again?”

Skye felt like she would be sick. “Ward, you raped me,” she said, slowly, like she was talking to a kid. “I don’t think you understand the extent to which our relationship has changed.”

“Well, either way,” said Ward. “Neither of us had much choice in the matter, so let’s just focus on the positives. We’re both alive, and now…”

“And now what, Ward?” Skye spat, suddenly furious. “Now we live happily ever after?” she said, pulling on her bound wrists, in order to make a point. “You are such a fucking child, you know that?”

“Now we can figure out how to stay safe,” said Ward, looking at her seriously.

 _I’m already unsafe, Ward. I’m unsafe, because I’m around you_ , thought Skye, refusing to look at him. There was no point. He wouldn’t understand.

 

* * *

 

Steve sat at the edge of the invisible barrier, cross-legged, hands clasped and head down. He was thinking. It didn’t do to dwell on what Skye was going through at the moment – there was nothing he could do to help her from here. He had to focus on the big picture: how to take Hydra down. How to get out of his cell, how to free Sam, find Natasha; how to assemble the rest of his team.

It was true; taking away his powers had been a significant blow. He didn’t realize how much his plans usually revolved around beating up everyone standing in his way until he could no longer do that – brute violence was no longer a path open to him. He’d have to use subtler means to achieve his goals.

He sat up when he heard footsteps growing louder and louder – a pair of them, nearing his cell. The door slid open, revealing a bedraggled-looking Skye, gripped by Ward. Steve stood immediately and glared at Ward, who ignored him in favor of pushing Skye into her cell and locking her in.

“This was fun,” said Ward, sounding tired. Steve felt a surge of hatred for him. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Skye crossed her arms around herself, hugging herself protectively. She looked at the floor. It broke Steve’s heart to see how uncertain she looked, how her characteristic confidence was nowhere to be found. He examined her carefully, noticed her split lip and disheveled hair. There were big, blotchy, purple marks on her neck. What had that bastard done to her?

“See you later, Skye,” said Ward, quietly. He turned to walk away, but when he got to the edge of the room, he paused, placing his hand on the door. “I’m… I’m sorry,” he said, turning back to her, his voice low. “For everything.” He left, and Skye drew a great shuddering breath, clutching herself tighter, sinking to the floor.

“I’m going to kill him,” said Steve, his voice cutting into the silence. “Bastard,”

“Get in line,” said Skye, her voice ragged, broken. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Are you okay?” asked Steve, unsure. “Did he…?” He didn’t really know what he was asking. He didn’t want to know the answer.

“Yes,” said Skye, voice cutting through the air like steel. “Yes, he did.”

“Fuck him,” said Steve, a lump rising in his throat.

“Yeah,” said Skye, and there was so much heartbreak in her voice that Steve wanted to cry.

 


	2. The Honeypot Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Steve plot to get information out of Ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind comments on the last chapter! You're all bloody wonderful. Thanks for being able to take such heavy material with such grace and kindness. I really appreciate you, readers. *hugs you*
> 
> HUGE thanks to Sonie for completely reworking this chapter -- it's much better now because of your suggestions. You're awesome.
> 
> big trigger warnings for rape (obviously), panic attacks, dissociation, and more rape. (Seriously, fuck Ward.)

The next day was rough. Skye didn’t want to talk much, and Steve didn’t want to push her. They mostly sat in silence, which was harder than Steve expected, having gotten used to having a lively conversational partner to distract him over the last few weeks. After a few days of relative silence, he decided something needed to change if they were ever going to get out of here.

“We have to talk, Skye,” he said, standing up and moving as close to her as the transparent barrier allowed.

Skye looked up from where she was sitting on her cot. “About what?” she asked warily, her voice raw from disuse.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know the details; and you absolutely do not have to tell them to me, if you don’t want to. But I can’t let you sit there and dwell in silence. Not only is it not good for you, we have to think about how to get out of here.”

Skye stared at him. For a split second Steve was worried she was about to lay into him for his “you can’t dwell” comment but then she cleared her throat and looked down. “Steve, we’re trapped here,” she said, sounding doubtful.  “We’re literally in a prison. How are we going to get out of here?”

“I have a plan,” he said, determinedly. Skye’s gaze shot to the security camera, which always watched her from the corner of her cell.

“Shut up, Steve,” she hissed, eyes wide. “They’ll hear you!”

“I don’t think they’re listening,” he said, calmly. “Go over, take a look.” He watched as Skye peered at the camera, moving around to examine it.

“You’re right,” she said, amazed. “It’s such an old model, I don’t even think these are capable of wireless transmission. And look, no wires are attached.” She looked at him. “How did you know?”

“Something Ward said, when he came to get you,” said Steve, suddenly awkward. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “He said ‘no one was watching this,’ like no one cared enough to pay attention to what we said. And then I thought to myself, what if those cameras were dummies, what if we aren’t important enough to listen to?”

“No one has brought us in for interrogation,” said Skye, slowly. She walked to the barrier, staring at Steve. “They’re only keeping you for your blood, and they’re only keeping me…” she trailed off and looked down. “Well,” she said, after a pause. “They’re keeping me for a pretty stupid reason, actually,” she said, trying to sound detached, above it all. Steve hurt for her when he saw how brave she was trying to be. “Why would they need to listen in?” said Skye.

“Exactly,” said Steve, nodding. “We can share information and make a plan to get out of here.”

“I’m listening,” she said. “What do you have in mind?”

Steve shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He crossed his arms against his chest. “Ah,” he said, slowly.

“You… don’t actually have a plan, do you,” said Skye, her voice heavy.

“I have a plan… to make a plan,” said Steve, rather lamely.

“Okay,” said Skye, and sat down. “Okay,” she repeated, as if hoping that inspiration would strike her if she kept talking. “Oh, my team is alive, by the way,” she said suddenly, jerking her head up. “Ward told me. May, Coulson, Fitz and Simmons. He let them go. That’s why he… that’s one of the reasons why he raped me, one of the reasons why he did what Garrett told him to do,” she said, looking down, unable to meet Steve’s eye.  

“I don’t get it,” said Steve. He chose to not bring attention to the fact that this was the first time Skye had actually said the r-word out loud. “What does your team have anything to do with how he treated you?”

“He’s been under suspicion ever since he let them escape,” said Skye. “They think he’s a working against Hydra – by treating me like a piece of shit, he’s helping to prove to Garrett that he’s still on Hydra’s side, not Coulson’s.”

“So you mean, he didn’t want to hurt you?” asked Steve, thinking hard.

“I’m pretty sure he wanted to do it,” she said, dryly. “He certainly seemed to enjoy himself a whole lot.”

“Bastard,” said Steve, furious. He clenched his fists against the sudden hot swoop of rage that engulfed him.

“Yeah. But I… I honestly don’t think he would have done it if Garrett hadn’t egged him on,” said Skye, taking a deep breath. She was silent for a while, breathing deeply, trying to keep calm. She glanced at Steve, who was staring at her with concern written on his face. “Sorry,” she said, voice small. “This is kind of hard for me.”

“Take your time, kid,” said Steve. “We’ve got time. And we’re going to get him, okay? He’s not going to get away with this,” he said, trying to pour reassurance into his voice. He wished he could hold her, let her find comfort in his arms. He wondered if Skye would even let herself be held.

Skye took a final deep breath. “So Ward might be an asset, I guess,” she said, her voice hard. She wouldn’t meet Steve’s eyes.

“Doesn’t mean he’s on our side,” said Steve. “But yes, we can use Ward. He still cares about you, in some weird, incredibly fucked up way. He’s clearly compromised, when it comes to you. He might be willing to tell you things. We can use him to gather information, because that is something we sorely lack.”

“Okay,” said Skye, taking a deep breath, steeling herself. “Okay. I can do this.”

Steve looked at her carefully. “If there was any other way, Skye…”

“I know,” she said, shooting him a small smile. “Don’t worry, I know. I can suck up to Ward, get him to work with us. It’ll be okay.”

“There’s someone else that might be able to help us,” said Steve, carefully.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“The Winter Soldier.”

Skye’s eyes widened. “You mean the master assassin who managed to win a fight against _you_? The dude who was responsible for bringing you in, putting you in that cage? _That_ Winter Soldier?” Steve didn’t blame her for her skepticism. The odds of bringing him around were, after all, very long.

“The Winter Soldier is a friend of mine, turns out,” said Steve. “Remember Bucky?”

“Your best friend who fell off a train in the Alps?” said Skye, confused. “I remember.”

“Well, Bucky’s the Winter Soldier,” said Steve, grimly.

Skye stared at him, not trying to disguise her shock. “I thought he fell off a train in 1945,” she said. “Did he time travel, or something?”

“Or something. He’s been in cryonics for most of the last seventy years,” said Steve. “Hydra must unfreeze him for certain select missions, assassinations, that’s why he’s only aged a few years since I saw him last. He’s been enhanced, like me,” he said. He rolled his eyes. “Well, like I _used_ to be. Natasha and I figured his super healing abilities allowed him to survive the cryo chamber. Most people would have died after a few missions. I didn’t tell you before, because I thought the cameras were watching, but now…” Steve trailed off.

“So, how did your best pal Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier?” asked Skye. Steve got the distinct sense she was humoring him.

“Massive, massive amounts of brainwashing,” said Steve. “He didn’t recognize me, that’s how much damage they’ve done to him.”

“And what makes you think you can undo whatever they did to him?” asked Skye, worried. “He did bring you in, after all. He’s not the same guy you knew, not by a long shot.”

“I know,” said Steve softly, looking at his hands. “But he did seem to recognize me. And… I’ve got to have hope, you know? The Bucky I knew would have fought this, would still be fighting this. If we gave him a nudge in the right direction…”

Skye didn’t laugh, god bless her. She smiled at Steve with something like fondness in her eyes. “So, how exactly do you plan on luring the Winter Soldier to the light side of the force?”

“I need him to come down here. I need face time with Bucky,” said Steve. “That’s the only way I can get him to break.”

“So I have to figure out how to use Ward to make that happen,” said Skye, voice determined.

“There’s another thing we have to think about,” said Steve. “Sam Wilson is locked up right now, probably getting the same treatment that Bucky got when he fell into Hydra’s hands. We have to figure out how to free him,” he said. “He’s a friend.”

“More information to squeeze out of Ward,” said Skye, smiling bravely at Steve. “I’ll do what I can, Cap.”

Steve smiled back. He felt a pang of sadness. He was happy she was so courageous – he just wished she didn’t have to be.

 

* * *

 

“Shut up, okay?” Ward sat on the edge of the bed, face in his hands, not looking at Skye. “Just don’t talk. I can’t take it today.”

“I didn’t say anything, Ward,” said Skye, mildly. She reclined on the bed, leaning against the headboard, feet crossed, looking at him curiously. It was only their second session together, and he was already unravelling. Getting information from him might turn out to be easier than she thought. She wondered what kind of stress he was under.

“You’re going to lecture me, and I can’t really handle it right now,” he said, sighing heavily.

 _Poor baby_ , thought Skye, sarcastically. _Now he’s feeling guilty for raping me and he wants me to go easy on him._ She grit her teeth and very purposely didn’t say what she was really thinking. She couldn’t afford to do that anymore, if she was ever going to get any intel out of Ward. Instead, she fixed a sad sort of smile on her face, and sighed, for dramatic emphasis. “I’m not going to lecture you, Ward,” she said, tiredly.

Ward picked his head up and looked at her. “Why not?” he said, suspiciously. “I really fucked up with you last week, you should be tearing my head off right now.”

“I thought about it,” said Skye. “You’re right, our circumstances have changed. You’re all I got, in this place. You’re probably the reason I’m still alive. I shouldn’t be fighting you,” she said, blushing a little, looking down shyly. “Besides. I had feelings for you. I _have_ feelings for you. Those didn’t just go away,” she said, peering up at him with big eyes, those big doe eyes so many men had complimented her on in her short life, and watched as her gaze did its magic on Ward. His eyes widened, he smiled in genuine relief. _Score_ , she thought, bitterly. It was so easy to play him. Men were so fucking stupid.

Ward crossed the distance between them, kissing Skye, cradling her face in his. Skye kissed back, keeping her lips soft, pliable. Every place that he touched her burned. “I’m so sorry, Skye,” he said, brokenly. “I can’t believe what they made me do to you,” he said, resting his forehead against hers.

“I… understand,” she whispered. “I don’t forgive you, not yet – but I understand. Give me more time,” she said softly. It wouldn’t be realistic if she rolled over that easily, forgave him right off the bat, she figured. This was more believable. The Skye Ward knew would make him work for it.

Ward growled and covered her body with his own, kissing her deeply. Her hands curled into fists as she willed her body to remain relaxed, as she forced herself to kiss back, to push back against the rising panic that threatened to engulf her as he spread out over her.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” he said, fiercely. “I’m going to protect you, get you out of that cell, somewhere nice. Maybe… maybe we can get married,” he said, almost shyly. “I’m sure Garrett will let us.”

Skye wanted to barf. This was the man she used to have a thing for, the man she had dreamed about as she slept in her tiny, cold cell. He actually thought it would make her happy to be his kept woman. After everything they had been through on the Bus, after all the missions they had run together, and he wanted to turn her into a… a _trophy wife_. She didn’t say any of that, though. This is what she actually said: “That might be nice, Ward.”

“You’d be mine, then,” he said, voice lowering into a growl. “You’d really be mine, no one else’s. No one else would be able to touch you. I’ve never had anything that was all mine before.” _Delusional idiot_ , thought Skye.

“All yours,” she whispered back, grimacing as Ward latched onto her neck, sucking a bruise onto her skin. He pressed his hips into hers, suggestively. Ward definitely had a possessive streak, she thought, filing that piece of information away. Could prove useful.

“Skye, I need you,” he said, urgently, kissing her neck, undulating his hips against hers. This time, he helped her out of her jumpsuit and underwear instead of slashing it off with his knife, and Skye made sure she got undressed as quickly as possible. He groaned and pressed against her – his cock was out, she noted absently, as if she was observing this happening to her from afar. He lined up and pushed in, and her mind went blank with panic.

“What, what is it?” cried Ward, withdrawing and clutching her face. She opened her eyes, and looked around, dazed. She realized she had been screaming. Screaming for him to stop. She couldn’t remember doing so, but she knew she had been. _Dissociation_. The word floated to the forefront of her consciousness. That’s what it was called. She had read it somewhere before. _You were dissociating, and it’s a common reaction to trauma, and it’s not a good thing._

“Skye, are you all right?” he cried again, pawing at her hair, her face.

“Give me space,” she said, dizzily. He sat up and stared down at her, worry written on his features. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying not to cry. All of a sudden she thought of Coulson, wished she could bury herself in his arms, breathe in his comforting scent. She wished she was anywhere but here. “I’m okay,” she said, smiling at him weakly, trying to wipe that look off his face.

“You scared the fuck out of me,” he said, lightly stroking her torso. He sounded shaken.

“You just… you didn’t use a condom,” she said, thinking quickly. “That’s why I was upset. I’m sorry I scared you.” She tried to focus her attention on her breathing, tried to get her heartbeat to slow down.

“I was so worked up, I forgot,” he said, smiling at her. He reached over her and pulled a condom out of the nightstand drawer. _He’s going to fuck me again_ , she thought, panic rising again. _Oh god, he won’t give up until he comes inside me_. He ripped the packet open and rolled the condom down over his cock. “Is that better?” he asked, smiling gently.

“Yeah,” she said, grinning at him softly. This time she willed herself to breathe deeply as he entered her, exhaling as he filled her up. His eyes were soft as he began to pump in and out of her, looking down at her with affection, with something like love. Her stomach churned, and she forced herself to keep breathing slowly, to keep the bile down. At least this time she wasn’t turned on, she thought. At least her body hadn’t betrayed her, like it did last time. She’d never forgive Ward for making her come, last time. He might have ruined orgasms forever, for her.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he said, voice low, almost grunting, as he pressed into her harder and harder. “All mine.” He pushed himself up so that he was kneeling on the bed, and lifted her ass up to meet his thrusts, so he could fuck her in mid-air. He looked down at her with adoration, and Skye tried hard to match his expression with one sufficiently cloying to satisfy him. Her eyes watered with unshed tears; she furiously blinked them back.

She focused on her breathing. _You can do this_ , she told herself, over and over again, willing herself to not lose control, to skirt on the edge of panic without dipping in. Suddenly, he pulled out of her, dropped her hips so she fell on the bed with a thump. He whipped off the condom, throwing it behind him. Knowing what was about to happen, Skye arched her back and rolled her eyes to the back of her head so that she could only stare at the headboard as he started stroking his cock fast, stripping himself. Ward groaned loudly as he came on Skye’s torso, striping her breasts and stomach with his come. It seemed to last forever, his cock jerking, spitting out come, shining translucent on her skin. Suddenly he felt unbearably heavy, slumped over on her waist, breathing heavily through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

She pushed herself up, meeting his gaze, suppressing a grimace as she felt the come start to slide down her body. She felt empty inside but smiled mechanically, biting her lower lip and looking at him through her eyelashes, in a way she supposed might be attractive.  Ward looked at her, as if overwhelmed. He surged forward and kissed her heavily, his tongue plumbing the depths of her mouth. It felt invasive; she was prevented from pulling away by his heavy hand on the back of her neck. And then, surprisingly, he pushed her away; she fell back onto the mattress, her head bouncing on the pillows. Ward dragged his finger up through the mess he had made between her breasts, and slowly pushed it between her lips, which were soft and plush from kissing him. She tried not to choke on the bitter taste and made sure to keep eye contact with him. Men seemed to like that, in her experience. His eyes darkened as she licked his finger clean, sucking the digit down.

He kept feeding her his come, groaning as she licked him clean, and Skye threw herself into the task, flickering her tongue over his fingers, gazing at him with adoration, like she couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Skye noticed that he was growing harder and harder against her leg, rocking against her. _Short refractory period_ , noted Skye, marking down the information for the mental file she kept on Ward. She wondered how remembering that fact could possibly be useful – and thought that it was high time she moved the conversation to more productive fields. But she wouldn’t have the chance quite yet, she realized, suppressing a sigh. Ward was already reaching across her to the nightstand, presumably to grab yet another condom.

Time for round two.

 

* * *

Ward reached over her and threw away the condom, burying himself in the hair that covered her neck, sticky with sweat. Skye could feel him smile against her skin, and she heard him yawn.

“No you don’t, you can’t sleep now,” she said automatically, shoving at his shoulder lightly. He couldn’t sleep, she needed to pump him for information. If she left his side today without learning anything new, then this whole ordeal would have been for nothing.

“Let’s sleep,” murmured Ward, voice heavy. “Post-coital nap, it’s traditional.”

“No. I miss talking to you. I don’t have anyone to talk to down there, other than Captain America, and he’s getting boring,” she lied, thinking quickly.

Ward snorted. “That guy is a self-righteous ass,” he said, falling onto his back, turning his head to look at her. “At least, that’s what Rumlow says.” Skye felt a stab of irritation. Steve Rogers was truly one of the best people she had ever met – kind, sweet, a true friend – and she didn’t like hearing people slander him, especially Hydra dirtbags like Ward and Rumlow.

“Yeah, he’s really lame,” said Skye smirking. She was surprised at how genuine she sounded. She always knew she was a good liar, but she was really out-doing herself, today. She might have a career in espionage, if she managed to survive this. “Dude never shuts up about the good-old days. It was interesting at first, but now it’s just repetitive. I miss talking to normal people. I miss talking to you,” she said, turning wide eyes onto Ward, willing the magic to work a second time.

It seemed to do the trick. Ward visibly softened; his eyes crinkled as he smiled, softly. “Well, what would you like to talk about?” he asked, quietly, almost sweetly.

“Why were you so stressed out when we got here?” asked Skye, genuinely wanting to know. “You scared me, Ward.”

“It’s just…. things aren’t going great with Garrett,” said Ward, after a pause. He grimaced, slightly.

“He still think you’re secretly working for Coulson?” asked Skye, lightly.

“No, it’s not that. I think we were convincing enough, last week. It’s just….” he looked at the security camera in the corner and he sighed. He abruptly sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He took his gun off the nightstand, where he had placed it before round two had started, flicked the safety off, aimed at the camera, and fired.

Skye flinched, and looked at the shattered camera. “Holy crap, Ward,” she said, in awe. “Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“I don’t need John listening to me talk to my girl,” he said fiercely, turning to look at her. “He doesn’t get to control every aspect of my life. I’m not the Winter Soldier,” he said, voice laden with frustration.

Skye’s heart skipped a beat. “Who’s the Winter Soldier?” asked Skye, carefully. She didn’t want to show how invested she was in how Ward answered.

“A prick,” said Ward dismissively, stretching his arms out and folding them behind his head. “Garrett’s good little toy soldier. Always listens to his S.O., never has an independent thought or feeling of his own. No one can compete.”

“So he’s like… your rival?” she said, smirking slightly. “You and the Winter Soldier, competing for dad’s approval?”

Ward laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said. “Oh god, that sounds pathetic, doesn’t it? It’s just… ever since Pierce was axed, Garrett’s been having meetings with the guy every night. Assigns him special missions. Hasn’t erased his memory once, even though the eggheads who manage the program have told Garrett repeatedly that the Soldier will be less easy to control if isn’t wiped often.”

Skye felt like she would burst into song at the news that Bucky’s programming might be at risk, but she carefully kept any and all glee off her face. “Why isn’t Garrett listening to the scientists?” she asked, frowning. “Doesn’t seem super smart.”

“It’s not,” said Ward. “But he’s not listening to reason. Garrett thinks the Soldier is more effective if he has more control over his day-to-day life. And the Soldier follows after him like a lapdog. It’s sickening to watch.”

Something else Ward had mentioned had pinged her interest. “Wait, Pierce is gone?” asked Skye, confused. “Isn’t he… in charge of Hydra?” Steve had told her all about Alexander Pierce, about what a monster he was.

“Garrett’s in charge now,” said Ward, looking surprised that Skye didn’t know. “The Winter Soldier killed Pierce, during the takeover. I honestly think Garrett must have gotten him to do it, but don’t quote me on that. Most people think it was an accident. I don’t. John’s been wanting more power for a while now. He put a hold on Project Insight, too.”

Skye looked at him blankly.

“Oh,” said Ward. “It was kind of… well, it was Hydra’s plan on eliminating anyone and everyone who could pose a threat to the social order,” he explained. “Scary stuff. Garrett wasn’t too happy about it; it would have made it harder for him to accumulate talented people for his team.”

“Wow,” said Skye, marveling, not for the first time, at just how _evil_ Hydra actually was. Between Pierce and Garrett, Garrett was actually the lesser of two evils. “So Garrett’s the guy we have to keep happy, then,” she said, looking at Ward nervously.

“Hey, hey,” he said soothingly, grasping her hand in his and looking her in the eye. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You let me worry about Garrett, okay? I can handle him.”

“Okay,” she said, shooting him a small smile. _God, play the wounded bird with a broken wing, and Ward eats it right up_ , she thought, wanting to roll her eyes. Was he always this stupid? Or was it just around her? Suddenly, a horrible thought struck her. What if he was playing her just as much as she was playing him? This was _Ward_ after all, the man who had successfully fooled the whole team into thinking he was on their side for a whole year. He was good at this. She might be spinning herself into a trap. She needed to get him to talk more.

“Can you tell me something, Ward?” she said, thinking fast.

“Anything,” said Ward, smiling. “What would you like to know?”

“How… how did this begin? How did you join up with Garrett in the first place?” Ward shot her a strange look. It was almost suspicious, like he expected her to start calling him names again. She sighed, ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I don’t exactly approve. I think you know that. If there was even a chance I thought we could get out of here, fight to change things, I’d take it, I think you know that too. But from where I stand, things are pretty helpless, so might as well learn more about the situation I’m in, rather than dream about changing things.”

“That sounds nothing like the Skye I know,” said Ward, frowning. _Shit_ , thought Skye, heart racing.

“I’m not that Skye anymore, okay? I’m scared,” she said, her voice small. “I’m fucking scared of everyone. I’m scared of the guards who come to feed me every day, I’m scared when I’m being taken to the showers, I’m scared every time you come for me. Garrett scares me.” At least she wasn’t lying this time.

“Don’t be scared of him,” he said, automatically. “I can handle him.”

“How?” asked Skye, thinking carefully about how to proceed. “I don’t understand your relationship with him. What do you have on him that makes him so easy to control?”

“Oh, I don’t have anything on him. It’s not like that,” said Ward, stretching. “I’ve just known him a really long time. I’ve been dealing with him for almost fifteen years now. I know how to manage him.”

Fifteen years, thought Skye. Ward was in his early thirties, which meant Garrett had been in his life since he was a teenager. He was probably his only real father figure, given the little she knew about Ward’s childhood. And Garrett, arguably, was a psychopath; not the best person you want to have as a role model. Despite herself, she found herself feeling a little sorry for Ward. No wonder he was so emotionally immature.

“So if he’s that close to you, how is the Winter Soldier cutting in on your relationship with him?” asked Skye, brows furrowed.

“He’s also kind of… well, he’s very results-oriented. And when your performance is put up against the Winter Soldier’s… it’s hard to compete with a machine, doesn’t matter how good you actually are,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Garret’s like a father to me, but I’ve no doubt he’d put a bullet in my head if I stopped being successful on missions,” he said.

“Jesus!” exclaimed Skye, looking at him with shock. There was something seriously, seriously wrong with Ward if Garrett was the man he chose to be loyal to, not Coulson.

Ward shrugged, but his expression was uneasy. “Hence the stress,” he said, like it hurt him to admit the truth, that he was actually worried.

“We have to figure out how to neutralize the Winter Soldier,” said Skye, determined.

Ward looked at her, skeptically. “It’s my problem, not yours, Skye,” he said.

“Bullshit, Ward. If you’re out, Garrett has no need to keep me around anymore. This is entirely my problem. Plus,” she took his hand purposefully, “we’re in this together, aren’t we?” Ward nodded, slowly. “So we’re going to figure this out together, okay? Like we always do.”

“Yeah,” said Ward, smiling at her openly. His smile was completely genuine; he looked years younger than he normally did. Skye felt a painful pang from somewhere below her heart, and she recognized the sensation as empathy. She could, objectively speaking, appreciate the direness of the situation Ward was in. Part of her genuinely felt bad for him, and wanted to help him. But no, she reminded herself, this wasn’t about helping Ward. This was about helping herself, and Steve. Ward was useful to them momentarily, but they weren’t going to take him with them, when they left.

He hadn’t earned the right.

 

* * *

 

This time, they walked into the room more or less as equals– Ward led and Skye followed, without having to be pulled along, like last week. The insults Steve had prepared for Ward died on his tongue as he took in their changed dynamic; Ward entered the code on the keypad with a dramatic flourish, grandly gesturing for Skye to enter, like he was dropping her off at her house at the end of a date. She smiled girlishly, leaned in to peck him on the lips, and turned away to enter her cell – Ward caught her by the arm, spun her around and pulled her close. He kissed her deeply, framing her face with his hands; Skye hung on to him like she would fall to her death if she let go.

Ward rested his forehead against Skye’s, breathing deeply, kissing her occasionally, like he couldn’t get enough of her. “I’ll see you later,” he said softly, his voice husky with desire. “I have to report for duty now, but I’ll do whatever I can to see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” whispered Skye. “See you soon, Grant,” she said quietly, kissing him on the nose. He smiled happily and gave her one last longing look as he reached the door. He left the room.

Steve waited until Ward’s footsteps died away before trying to speak – but once again, the words withered away when he looked at Skye. She was breathing deeply, eyes focused on some point on the floor, arms wrapped loosely around herself. The expression of bliss was gone; instead, she looked close to being sick.

“Don’t say anything, please,” said Skye, voice hoarse. She kept her eyes averted. Steve obediently shut his mouth (he had just noticed it was hanging open) and waited for her to say something. Skye started breathing faster and faster, gulping air through her mouth, hugging herself tighter and tighter. She bent over and crouched down into a hunch, making herself small as she fell apart.

 _Deep breaths, Skye_ , thought Steve, heart breaking for her. Her face was hidden from him; buried in between her knees. Her tiny figure moved up and down as she gasped for air, the sound slicing through the silence of their prison. Finally – finally – the panicked breathing leveled off, and Skye loosened her arms, her body losing its tightness. “Hi, Steve,” she said, voice raw with unshed tears.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, looking at her with so much affection he thought his heart would burst. How had he become so attached to this kid, in such a short time? “How are you, Skye?” he asked, quietly.

“Been better,” she said, looking at him and smiling brokenly. He laughed, for want of something better to do, and she joined him, their laughter echoing down the hall. It died off as soon as it came, but it left a warm residue, helped wash away the pollution that Ward had left in their little world. “He was kind, today,” said Skye, nodding, not looking directly at him. “You were right – I was nice to him, so he was nice to me.”

“Doesn’t make up for what he did,” said Steve, heavily. “Doesn’t mean you wanted what happened today to happen. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I know,” she said too quickly, nodding. “I know. She looked down at the floor, said nothing for a while. “How does Romanoff do it?” she asked, suddenly. “I’ve heard the stories about the covers she’s maintained, over the years. Honeypot missions, I think that’s what they’re called. How do you fake it like that? I could never do this, could never volunteer to do this.”

“It’s probably easier with strangers,” said Steve, quietly. “Natasha probably never had to seduce anyone who raped her.”

“Yeah,” said Skye, her eyes filling with tears. “Shit,” she said, wiping angrily at her eyes.

Steve turned his attention to the floor, feeling too guilty to look at Skye. What was he doing? Encouraging a traumatized girl to go back to her rapist, to _work him over_ , just so that he could get the information he needed? That didn’t sound like him. The old Steve would have rather died than see this happen to someone he cared about. Of course, the old Steve, thought Steve bitterly, had the advantages of big muscles and hand-to-hand combat skills. The new Steve didn’t have that. He didn’t have the ability to save Skye from this, he couldn’t take matters into his own hands anymore. Like it or not, she was the only one with mobility – she was the only one who could save them now.

“The worst part is that I felt bad for him,” said Skye, pulling Steve from his circular thoughts.

“Really?” he asked, making an effort to look directly at her.

She looked at him and nodded. “Ward has a really, really fucked up relationship with Garrett. Like, Ward was just a kid when Garrett got his hands on him. He really messed with his head. Probably explains a lot about why he turned out to be… well, you know.” She looked at Steve, anger on her face. “Steve, he made me feel _bad_ for him. He won’t even give me the freedom to hate him in peace; now it’s all complicated, because I kind of want to help him.”

“Do you feel like forgiving him?” he asked, frowning.

“No,” said Skye automatically. “Not even a little bit,” she said, shaking her head. Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He didn’t know what he would have done if Skye insisted on trying to bring Ward around to their side – even if Skye was willing to forgive him, _Steve_ certainly wasn’t. “I’m still furious at him, I could still kill him,” she said, flatly. “But I feel bad for him at the same time. It’s like the two feelings are independent of each other, like they’re about two separate people. There’s the evil bastard who raped me, and…” she looked at Steve helplessly, “then there’s the broken boy who I feel so, so bad for.”

Steve looked at her doubtfully. “Skye…”

“I know, I _know_ ” said Skye, digging her hands into her hair, pulling it back. She looked utterly overwhelmed. “None of it justifies what he’s done.”

“Terrible things happen to people all the time,” said Steve, quietly. “Not all people who have been hurt go onto rape, not all of them kill. What’s happened in Ward’s past doesn’t give him the right to hurt people the way he does.”

“It should be so obvious to me,” said Skye. “Why do I feel so conflicted?” she asked, almost pleading with him.

Steve smiled at her, sadly. He took a step forward. “Because you’re a good person, Skye. You feel compassion for people, even people who don’t deserve your kindness. You wanting to help Ward doesn’t mean that there’s anything special about Ward – it means that there’s something special about you.”

Skye dissolved into tears. She sank down to the floor and buried her face in her hands as she cried, sobbing. “Let it out, kid,” murmured Steve, knowing she couldn’t hear him over the sound of her own misery. He wanted to cross the barriers that divided them, to let her cry in his arms. Tears pricked at the corners of his own eyes.

She sat there even after the tears had run dry, staring at a point on the floor ahead of her. Steve sat down and watched her, carefully. They sat together for a long time in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to clarify: even though Skye is trying to making Ward happy right now - this isn't consensual. It will never be consensual, no matter how layered Ward actually is, no matter how fucked up he is, no matter how sorry Skye feels for him. He's a rapist in this fic. End of story.
> 
> Oh, and I might have changed everything about Hydra to the point where it's unrecognizable from the canon MCU version. Um. Sorry about that.


	3. Rosemary's Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward tries to take his relationship with Skye to another level, and Bucky finally makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, guys. I'm so, so sorry for the wait. I honestly was feeling so overwhelmed by the story itself, not to mention all the harassment this story has been getting, that I decided to just take a long break. The content itself was actually too much for me to handle, so I forced myself to not even think about the story for a really long time. I was only recently able to take a second look at what I had. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I really liked the next few chapters I had written, and I'm pretty excited to publish them, now. I plan on publishing chapter 4 really soon (probably tomorrow), so heads up. (Chapter 4 is where things begin to lighten up, huzzah)
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: rape, abuse, depression, trauma, all that fun shit. In addition to that, we've got weird pregnancy bullshit (I mean, check the title of this chapter) and mild homophobia, from Ward.

“Go over the plan one more time.”

“Jesus, Steve, you really think I don’t know it by now?”

“Okay, just tell me how you’re going to tell him about Bucky. I really, really want to know.”

Skye groaned, and glared at Steve. He smiled at her apologetically, and Skye cursed him, internally. If Steve had a flaw, it was that he never got angry with her, never got irritated. It was no fun sniping at someone who wouldn’t play ball. She knew, of course, that he could get angry at things– she’s seen him around Ward and Garrett, she’s heard him _talk_ about Ward and Garrett – but he never lost his cool with her. It was maddening.

Steve had been in exceptionally high spirits ever since Skye informed him that Project Insight had failed to launch, and that the Winter Soldier had killed Alexander Pierce. If Pierce’s plan had gone through, it would have destroyed the world, Steve assured Skye, and she tried to feel happy about the lack of apocalypse that was happening on the outside. But it was hard to feel happy about anything, these days.

“Steve, you know I don’t work that way,” she said. “I just sort of, you know. Wing it. I’ll spring it on him when the moment’s right. That’s my style.”

“Right,” said Steve, rolling his eyes, but unable to suppress his grin. “Your style. I forgot I’m dealing with Natasha Romanov here, master spy.”

“Hey, there’s a reason I’m a SHIELD agent,” said Skye, seriously. “I’m not entirely terrible at this, you know,” she said.

“I know,” said Steve, softening. “I trust you; you clearly know how to handle Ward. You had him wrapped around your little finger last time I saw you two together.”

“Yeah, he’s basically my bitch,” said Skye cockily, hands on her hips. She grinned.

“All right, Casanova,” said Steve, smiling fondly. “One more time, though. Tell me what you’re going to tell him. Just for me.”

Skye rolled her eyes and told him again. It had been exactly twenty-four hours since her last meeting with Ward, and she was feeling antsy. It was true that it has been a week between Ward’s first and second visits, but given his heartfelt promise to see her again soon, she suspected that his third visit would come a lot sooner. Therefore, it was imperative that she be prepared for him to come at any time. Steve and Skye had stayed up the night before, planning, and she felt ready for whatever Ward had planned for her.

They were right – the next visit happened sooner rather than later. It took less than three days for Ward to wrangle another visit. Skye smiled at him shyly as he unlocked her cage, gloating as she saw Ward visibly melt in front of her. The thought had again crossed her mind, in the three days that they were apart, that Ward might be faking it just as much as she was – but she discarded it when she saw the joy radiating from him when he saw her. No one, not even Romanoff, was that good. Ward was a man in love, and Steve was right, Skye had him wrapped around her little finger.

 

* * *

 

 

This time, their room had no security cameras. Ward laughed and said that Garrett had got the message, and Skye, lying on their bed, smiled at him proudly, the way she supposed a supportive partner would. Internally, she worried. If Garrett and Ward were on better terms, Ward might not react all that well to her suggestions, and this all might be for nothing. She threw herself into kissing him, as if to cover her sudden panic that none of this would come to anything, that willingly fucking Ward wouldn’t get her any closer to freedom than putting up an active resistance.

He kissed back, enthusiastically, before pulling back and looking at her quizzically. “What was that for?” he asked, breathing hard and grinning at her.

“I don’t know,” breathed Skye, feeling dizzy. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

“It’s only been three days,” he said softly, peppering her face with feathery kisses, making her laugh.

“It feels like it’s been two weeks,” she said, grinning at him, focusing her gaze on his lips as she went in for another kiss. Ward kissed her back, heavily, lips sliding down to nuzzle her neck. “How did you get the time to see me this soon?” asked Skye, wincing as he bit down on one of the old bruises he had left on her last time.

“Took out a team of SHIELD loyalists single-handedly,” said Ward huskily, kissing the slope of her neck. “Would have gotten a whole weekend off with you if I had managed to bring in Coulson and May – but they managed to slip away.”

“Well, look at G.I. Joe,” said Skye, forcing herself to sound approving. Her stomach clenched at the news. Such a close shave. Her friends were safe, for now. Only a matter of time before she and Steve would join up with them, she reminded herself, sternly.

“That’s me,” said Ward, grinning, and Skye felt a surge of loathing for him. She masked it with a bright smile.

“So you get time off after every time you pull off a mission for Hydra? You managed to save me in the first place because you caught Sam Wilson, right?” asked Skye. _Like hell, Ward saved me_ , thought Skye, wanting to laugh. The very idea was ludicrous. If it wasn’t for Ward, she’d be with Coulson right now, hiding out somewhere with her team, happy and whole and very, very much unraped.

“Yep, winged the Falcon,” said Ward, proudly. “Fucker was hard to catch, too. Had to disable the wings and that wasn’t easy.”

“He alive?” asked Skye, lightly.

“Yeah, they’re planning on turning him into another toy soldier. Because we really need more of those,” said Ward, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I’ve got good news on that front, Ward,” she said, voice low, enticing.

“Hmmm…” said Ward, pretending to think. “Is it… that I’m about to get seriously, seriously lucky with the hottest woman I’ve ever seen?”

“Smooth,” laughed Skye, wincing as Ward went back to sucking on her neck. “No, it’s about Garrett.”

That got his attention. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously, sitting back on the bed and looking at her.

“I think I have a way to neutralize your little Winter Soldier problem,” she said, smiling at him nervously. Everything hinged on this moment.

“Really?” He sounded skeptical. But, she thought, he didn’t roll his eyes or tell her to mind her own business. It was a good start, at least.

“Yeah,” she said. “I figured it out when talking to St—Captain America,” she said quickly, correcting herself. She didn’t want to sound like she was too familiar with him. “I found out who the Winter Soldier really is.”

“You did?” asked Ward. He definitely sounded intrigued now. “Who is he?”

“Turns out… he’s Bucky Barnes,” she said. “Captain America’s old sidekick, during the Second World War. Hydra kidnapped him when he fell off that train; they experimented on him, brainwashed him, put him on ice and only take him out for certain missions. That’s why he’s only aged a few years – it’s only been a few years for him.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Ward, staring at her. “We sure Rogers is telling the truth?”

“Yeah, he’s a pretty open guy, actually,” said Skye, lightly. “And it gets boring down there. Once we figured out there were no live security cameras in our cellblock, that no one was listening in on us, we started sharing life stories. I know everything about him.”

“So… how does this help us?” asked Ward, furrowing his brow.

Skye felt like rolling her eyes. _Have to spell everything out for the idiot_. “Find a way to get Steve and the Winter Soldier in the same room – put him in front of Steve Rogers for an hour, I guarantee you Bucky Barnes’s programming will start breaking down, especially since he’s been out of cryo for so long. He’ll be useless to Garrett within the week.”

“Wow,” said Ward, leaning back on the headboard, lost in thought.

“If it helps, I think Steve and Bucky used to be close. Like, really, _really_ close,” said Skye, sliding as much innuendo into her tone as possible.” Ward looked at her, but didn’t really seem to understand what she was getting at. She looked at him incredulously. “Like, buttfucking levels of close, Ward. They were lovers.”

“Damn,” said Ward, sounding stunned. “Didn’t expect that from Cap,” he said.

“Yeah. Rogers never told me explicitly, but I could tell – he was in love with Bucky. He was in love, and Bucky reciprocated. I have good intuition about these things. I can’t think of anything that would mess with Bucky’s head more than to reunite him with the love of his life,” said Skye.

“Well, after my win this week, I’m not feeling as worried as I felt last time I saw you,” said Ward slowly. Skye’s heart sank. “But it can’t hurt to stay on top of my rivals, right?” She cheered internally, and smiled at Ward.

“I’ll see what I can wrangle,” said Ward. “See if I can bring him down to meet him when I come to get you next time.”

“Excellent,” said Skye, relieved. “You’re making it worth all the time I spent pumping Captain Righteous for information,” she said, giggling. Might as well play up her supposed dislike of Steve, she thought. It would make it harder for him to suspect she was actually working with him.

“Yeah, that shrimp,” said Ward, rolling his eyes. “No idea why we keep him around – I think some of the squints insisted. Garrett doesn’t like it, would prefer to liquidate him.”

Skye froze, staring at him with eyes wide open. _Liquidate_.

“What?” asked Ward, frowning.

She blinked in surprise, cursing herself for giving away what she was thinking so easily. “Nothing,” she lied, shaking her head too fast. “So tell me about what you’ve been doing away from me; what’s the weather like, out there?” she said, tracing a finger along his brow.

“No, what is it? You looked strange, for a minute,” said Ward, grabbing her hand with his and lowering it, looking serious.

Skye felt her heart skip a beat. Was this where it all fell apart? She thought fast. “I don’t know, Ward,” she said, uneasily. “I just… I’m not used to how you guys do things. Coulson never would have killed a prisoner like that, no matter how annoying or self-righteous he was.” She looked at him with a hint of a smile, hoping that insulting Steve would win her some points – but it had been the wrong thing to say.

Ward leaned back and looked at her coolly. “Coulson,” he said, flatly. “Look, Skye, I liked the guy too, but he’s not a player, anymore.”

“I know,” said Skye quickly, placing her hand over his, in an attempt to placate him. “I know.”

“You need to forget what it was like on the Bus,” said Ward. His eyes were dark; unfathomable. “This isn’t playtime, anymore. There are bad people in this world, Skye. Garrett’s one of them. You can’t spend time worrying about the little guy getting run over when you’re next in line.”

Skye swallowed, uncomfortably.  “I… I know that, Ward,” she stammered.

Ward stared at her, his pupils dilating. “You don’t,” he said, in a whisper. He gripped her face and pulled up; she had no choice but to stand along with him.

“Ward…” started Skye, alarm rising quickly. He was staring at her dispassionately, holding her face so hard that she was sure he was leaving marks. He tilted her head back so that her throat was bared to him – he was breathing harder and harder.

“Not everyone is like your precious Agent Coulson. You are so fucking stupid, you know that?” he said harshly, his voice a low growl.

“Grant, you’re hurting me,” said Skye urgently, her heart beating wildly. She put her hands on his hand, trying to loosen it. He stared at her with a stony expression, and she didn’t dare look away. She heard the sound of a zipper being unzipped and watched as his mouth became a thin straight line.

He let go of her face and immediately pushed down on her head; before she knew what was happening, she was on her knees, staring at his crotch. Ward was busy extracting his cock. She knew what was coming next, but it didn’t stop the blood from rushing to her head when she heard him order her to “suck it”. He pushed all the way into her mouth, unceremoniously hitting the back of her mouth, pressing against the entrance of her throat harshly. She breathed hard through her nose and blinked as tears spilled over, trying to suppress the shudders that wracked her as she tried to not gag from the unnatural intrusion. Ward held her by the jaw and began loosely thrusting, fucking her face. She looked up at him, or tried to; she caught a brief glimpse of his stony expression glaring down at her before his other hand descended onto the top of her head, burying his fingers in her hair and pulling her head off and on his dick, guiding her movement.

He grunted quietly as he thrust in and out, and fat tears rolled down her cheeks as she forced her jaw to drop even more. She wondered if she was crying because of the turn the conversation had taken, or because of how big he was, how much she had to strain to accommodate him. It was strange, but she had kind of expected this – she had expected Ward to turn on a dime, to treat her like a sex toy rather than a person, despite how gentle he had been during their last visit. Hysteria rose as she thought about how right this felt, how much more true to their dynamic this was than the romance of their last parting. Part of her relished being choked on his cock, grimly enjoyed the gurgled sounds she made as he rammed her throat mercilessly. There was something pure about it, something honest.

He pulled out. She swallowed, over and over, saliva and bile rushing to her mouth as she concentrated on not throwing up, on not losing control in front of him. He was still rock hard, his cock red and shiny with her spit, but she barely got a chance to look at it before she was being hauled up by her hair (would he ever stop using her hair as a handle?) and tossed on the bed.

“Get these fucking clothes off,” he muttered, and she scampered to comply, wriggling out of her jumpsuit in record time. She heard Ward swear and drape himself over her back, mouthing at the back of her neck. He wrapped a hand around her throat, gripping it firmly. With his other hand, he moved his cock into position and began to push in. He slid in with little resistance, her cunt welcoming him easily, and he pressed into her as hard as he could, filling her to the hilt. His fingers tightened around her throat, cutting off much of her air supply, and she choked, feeling lightheaded as he began to pump in and out of her, setting a brutal pace. She gasped as her vision went black and blurry on the edges, and she went limp, only being held up by the hand on her throat, which gripped and massaged and was probably going to leave marks.

“You’re so wet, you’re dripping,” he said, heated voice cutting through the haze. “Fucking slut,” he snarled. “You fuck Coulson like this, you whore?” he asked. “I know you wanted to.” He pounded into her as she struggled to keep her knees bent, her ass up. She cried out in pain as he sunk both hands into her hair and pulled her head towards him, forcing her to arch her back. Her thighs shook with the strain of holding her hips up – her knees slipped on the sheets and she found herself flat on her stomach. He let go of her hair and gripped her hips instead, pulling them slightly up, and continued to fuck her from behind, reaching deep inside of her. “You suck Coulson off in his office? Huh?” he spat, genuine fury in his voice. “You bend over for him when the rest of us were sleeping? You stupid bitch,” he continued, the sound of him fucking into her, knocking into the back of her thighs, made a loud slapping noise. “You ever fuck anyone other than me, and I will put you down, the way I will put down your friends,” he growled.

She couldn’t process that. She wouldn’t process that. He started groaning as he fucked her even faster, until at last he crested, shouting out loud as he pressed her into the mattress, hips pulsating as his cock jerked inside of her, filling her with his seed. His orgasm seemed to last forever, she dimly noted, and when he finally pulled out, she felt warm fluid leach out of her – his semen, she realized, feeling sick.

“You – you didn’t use a condom,” she gasped against the pillows, feeling lightheaded.

“I know,” he said, his voice normal again. Big hands flipped her over, smoothing hair out of her sweaty face. He stroked her temple, looking at her inquisitively, carefully, very much like the Ward she was used to; the calm, put-together version.

“Why?” she asked, bewildered, hurt. She reached down and felt between her legs, scooping away the hot semen that drooled out of her. She squeezed more of it out, wanting to be clean.

“Stop that,” he said firmly, pulling her hand out of the way away. He pushed up to a sitting position, grabbed her legs and crossed them, so that nothing could seep out. He pulled her hips up –whatever was inside of her would flow back up into her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, too tired to put up a fight.

“Garrett won’t let me marry you,” he said, calmly, his tone matter-of-fact. “I asked. But I figure he’ll let us if you get pregnant.”

It took a moment for Skye to process this. “But I don’t want to be pregnant,” she said stupidly, still feeling wobbly and disoriented.

“Tough,” he said, grinning at her. “If you have a baby, there’s more of a chance Garrett lets you live,” he said, stroking her hair. “I’m doing this for you, kid.”

Her breath came quicker and quicker, and soon she was gulping air, unable to get enough oxygen. Her heart was pounding fast, and her vision going blurry – she dimly heard him shouting her name, she felt him slap her cheek, but everything was far away, everything was distant. She was dying, she was going to die.

The panic dissipated slowly, and she gradually came back to the bedroom. “Skye?,” asked Ward, who seemed to be floating off to the side of her vision.

“Isn’t there any other way, Ward?” she said, aware she was crying, aware her voice was cracking. “I really don’t want to be pregnant.”

“Come on, it’s not the worst thing in the world,” said Ward, rolling his eyes. “You get to have my kid. We’d be a family. You’d be mine, for real,” he said, covering her hand with one of his own.

“Yeah, Ward,” said Skye, unable to look directly at him. “That sounds great.”

At that moment, she knew she had never hated anyone in her life the way she hated Grant Douglass Ward.

 

* * *

 

 

Skye soon tired of reassuring Steve that Bucky really was coming. She knew that despite Ward’s various faults, an inability to get things done was not one of them; if Ward said he would do something, he’d do it. It grew irritating, watching Steve grow happier and happier as she fell into a deeper and deeper depression. Oh, he tried to hide it from her, he tried to scrub the cheer from his voice as he talked to her, whenever he tried to rally her. Bless his heart, he tried to get her to open up, to share what she was feeling. She knew he meant well. But it still hurt, seeing him sit on his cot and smile to himself when he thought she wasn’t looking. It hurt to know that he could expect to be reunited with someone he cared about while she… she was slowly having all ownership of her life taken away from her.

Because that’s what was happening, wasn’t it? Ward had decided that it wasn’t enough to control her as a person – he needed to possess her very body as well. He wanted to infect her with his sperm, to plant a parasite in her womb, own her from the inside as well as the outside. Soon, if they kept having the kind of sex he wanted to have, she would be pregnant. And there was nothing she could do; there was no pill she could take, no doctor she could see. She was Ward’s pet, his slave. If he wanted to knock her up, well, that was his prerogative.

She buried her face in her hands and tried to breathe normally. It would be okay. Bucky (she had even begun thinking of the Winter Soldier as _Bucky_ ) would come back to himself, he would help break them out, they’d escape. But how long would it take to get Bucky to that stage? Would she have had a kid by that point? How many kids?

There was an urgency now to their escape that hadn’t existed, before.

Skye hadn’t told Steve anything about Ward’s little plan for her uterus. She couldn’t. The thought of letting someone else know her secret was overwhelming. And Steve, who was so pure, so sweet, so kind; he couldn’t know. It made her feel dirty, the thought of people knowing what Ward was doing to her. She couldn’t bear to have Steve look at her the way Ward looked at her, like a thing, like a sex doll, a body for insemination. She cherished Steve’s kindness. She craved it. She couldn’t lose it.

She had pinned all her hopes on Bucky’s malleability – she found herself privately joining Steve in his excitement, at times. But it was always tempered with the knowledge that Ward would only bring the Winter Soldier to them when he had some time off – which meant she’d be in for another session with the supposed love of her life when it finally happened.

Out of pure force of habit, she had kept up the routines of daily life in the meantime – she made sure to wash herself thoroughly at shower time (even though she felt like she’d never completely be clean again), she ate all her food at mealtime (no matter how bland), she even did pushups and lunges and jumping jacks and every other exercise she could think of in order to stay fit. But she talked less. She smiled less. She tended to spend a lot of time sitting cross-legged on her cot, staring forward, trying to keep her mind blank.

Steve noticed, of course.  He was worried. He kept talking to her, asking her stupid questions, undeterred as she responded dully, giving him monosyllabic replies. They were building up to a Serious Talk – she knew it, and she dreaded it – it made her want to open up to Steve less, talk to him less.

As it happened, it took a solid ten days for Ward to return. Skye stood automatically as the door slid open, pasting a brilliant smile on her face, wondering where on earth it had come from, and watched as Ward walked towards her, grinning warmly. God, she was beginning to hate that face; his smug tight mouth, the dark eyes, his perfect hair. He unlocked her cage and wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. She held her breath as he squeezed her.

“Sorry it took me so long, babe,” he said, huskily. She strained to see over his shoulder – she saw a bulky man with shaggy, shoulder-length hair and a metal arm stand at ease in front of Steve’s cage, holding his hands behind his back, his feet a shoulder’s-width apart. Steve, who normally considered it his responsibility to glare daggers at Ward every time he came to collect Skye, stood in front of the Winter Soldier, an awed expression on his face.

“Did you miss me?” asked Ward, bending at the knees to look at her closely, eyes searching her face.

She was suddenly unable to speak, so she nodded instead. “Ten days,” she said, when she found her voice.

“I know,” said Ward, kissing her forehead. “Garrett had me away on a mission. Classified location.”

“You’re safe, that’s the most important thing,” she said, automatically. Instinct served her well, when it came to Ward. She wondered, abstractly, when she had become so good at pleasing people who wanted to hurt her.

“Yeah, and I managed to bring funbags, here,” he said, jerking his head in the Winter Soldier’s direction, and winking.

“How’d you manage that?”

“I’ll tell you all about it, come on,” he said, pulling her forward.

Skye shot a look behind her as they left the room, and saw Steve staring at her, swallowing hard, eyes glazed over with tears. She turned forward and grit her teeth as she followed Ward to their bedroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve watched the door slide shut and shook his head, trying to clear his suddenly blurry vision. He took a deep breath and turned towards the Winter Soldier again. He was huge; almost unrecognizable. The breadth of his shoulders rivalled Captain America’s, and his long hair hung in his face. The Soldier – Bucky — was staring at Steve with open shock written on his face.

“You,” said Bucky, eyes wide.

“Me,” said Steve, quietly, struggling to keep his voice steady.

“You’re _real_ ,” said Bucky, sounding amazed. “I thought I had dreamed you up.” Steve grit his teeth and blinked furiously. It was as if a vice had taken hold of his heart; it squeezed. “Unless this is one of his tricks,” muttered Bucky, turning away, clenching his fists. “Garrett must have read my mind. This is a trick.”

“No, Bucky!” said Steve, panicking. “I’m real. I’m me. I’m Steve.”

“Bucky,” said Bucky, once again turning to Steve, this time with suspicion. “You called me Bucky. The man on the bridge–”

“Bucky, I _am_ the man on the bridge,” said Steve, desperately.

“Sorry pal, but he was a lot bigger,” said Bucky, lips curling with distaste. It was as if he had already decided Steve was lying to him.

“They did something to me,” Steve insisted. “I’m still Steve Rogers. Just small, again. Like you knew me. In Brooklyn.” He stepped forward, as close to Bucky as the barrier would allow. “Remember Brooklyn?” he asked, softly.

“I’ve never been to Brooklyn,” said Bucky, an edge to his voice.

“But you remember me,” said Steve, trying to get back on familiar ground.

“I remember you. That doesn’t mean much,” said Bucky, his voice hard. “You could be anyone.”

“I’m your friend, Buck. I’m Steven Grant Rogers. We’ve been best friends since we were six,” said Steve, sadly.

“If you’re who you say you are,” said Bucky, staring, “then tell me what colors the curtains were.”

“What?” asked Steve, taken aback.

“The curtains. Above the bed,” said Bucky, firmly.

Steve blinked. “Blue,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We always had blue curtains. My mother passed them on to us. I couldn’t bear to get rid of them.”

Bucky said nothing, continued to stare at Steve. After an eternity, he spoke. “You could have been told to say that.”

“You’re going to have to trust me,” said Steve, tired. “Trust that this is a good thing.”

Bucky laughed, harshly. “You want to convince me, you’re going to have to do better than that, _Steve_ ,” he said, mockingly. “What’s your angle? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to remember who you were,” said Steve. “That’s all. No angles, no hidden motives. I just want you to remember your life before… before this.”

Bucky said nothing, just stood there and looked at him. Steve was beginning to feel unnerved. Bucky had never looked at him like that before, so openly, with no inhibitions. Before the war, if Steve caught Bucky staring, his expression would always dissolve into a playful, disarming grin. During the war, Bucky had a hard time meeting anyone’s eye – he was always the first to look away, to frown at the ground or stare into the distance. The Soldier’s naked gaze was overwhelming.

“I call bullshit,” said Bucky, finally, voice flat. “You’re a man in a cage, you want out of the cage. You have a motive, don’t pretend you don’t.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. He didn’t dare look away from Bucky. Bucky had a point. Even if Steve didn’t give two shits about his own survival – there was Skye’s to think about. After all, she was the one who had paid the biggest price to bring Bucky down here.

“Okay, you’re right,” said Steve, making a decision. He’d go for honesty. “I’d like to get out of here. More than that, I have a friend who I’d like to free as well.”

Bucky abruptly turned on his heel and began to walk away.

“Bucky, wait!” cried Steve, desperately. Bucky paused. His hand, outstretched to key in the code for the door, froze, as he waited for Steve’s next move. “I might need something from you, but that doesn’t change the fact that you need to know who you are. I want to do this for you, because I loved you,” said Steve, rushing to get his words out. “Because I love you,” he corrected, voice cracking, slightly.

Bucky turned back around to look at Steve again, naked shock written in his face.  

“Even if you don’t do a thing for me, I want to do this for you,” Steve continued, voice surging with emotion. “Even if I die in here, I want you to remember who you are.”

“Why?” asked Bucky, plainly.

“Because they took that from you, and it’s not right!” said Steve, ferociously. Tears of anger and desperation were beginning to well up in his eyes. He blinked to banish them away. “You deserve to have your life back, Bucky,” said Steve. “They don’t get to keep that from you.”

Bucky stared at Steve again. “You’re fucking insane,” he informed Steve, sounding unsettled.

“I know,” said Steve, and tried to smile.

“A place like this, and you’re talking about love.” Bucky sounded equal parts disgusted and astounded. “You don’t even know me. You wouldn’t say you loved me if you knew me.”

“I know you,” said Steve, voice hoarse with emotion. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes. I’d know you no matter what.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Finally, he spoke. “You’re insane, you know that, pal?” His gaze finally broke, he looked at the floor a little awkwardly. His metal hand rose to rub the back of his neck, a familiar gesture, recalled from a forgotten life.

“I’ve been told before,” said Steve, laughing a little. He was pressed up as close to Bucky as he could be, one hand resting on the transparent barrier that separated them. It sent little electric jolts through him, like a million tiny static shocks. He paid them no mind, as he stared up at Bucky, eyes shining.

“All right, Steve,” said Bucky, peering curiously at Steve, with none of his earlier bravado. “Fine. You say we knew each other. How did we meet?”

Steve smiled. “1934, Carver St., behind the bowling alley. I was getting the shit kicked out of me, and you decided to give the bullies a run for their money…”


	4. Escape from the Devil's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Skye and Steve break free, with a little help from the Winter Soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post this one right away, as an apology for making you guys wait so much. 
> 
> (All wardstan comments will be removed from this point on. Nobody got time for that. I'm not removing the tag, and that's that.)
> 
> warnings: a REALLY CREEPY scene between Garrett and Skye you might want to skim through. Has all sorts of rapey innuendo and no actual sexual contact. And the usual warnings for rape, abuse, depression, pregnancy. Has another scene between Skye and Ward, though not as long.
> 
> And there's an actually sweet sex scene in here as well, between Steve and Bucky. So. Uh. You're welcome.

After that first day, Bucky came whenever he could find a little free time, which was surprisingly often. The Winter Soldier’s status as Garrett’s favorite seemed to carry weight at Hydra – it afforded him more benefits, like a certain freedom to traverse the Hub without an escort, which he definitely wouldn’t have been able to do under Pierce’s rule. Steve knew that Bucky came not because he was bored, or needed something to fill his time – Bucky came because he was starving for information about himself. He was like a man stranded in the desert who had just discovered a pristine oasis – he seemed to crave conversation with Steve; seemed to live off of the energy of their interactions.

Skye, who (for some reason) knew a little something about psychology, had emphasized the importance of not planting memories in Bucky’s head; of letting him discover his memories as they revealed themselves to him. After the first day, Steve was very careful not to discuss the past – he let Bucky do all the talking. After a week and a half of fairly regular visits, Bucky showed signs of remembering certain notable memories  – he described the time Steve had almost made it with small brunette on one of their notorious double dates, only for Bucky to get jealous, drag Steve away from the dame, take him home and fuck him through the mattress. Steve and Skye had laughed until they cried, which seemed to please Bucky immensely.

Sometimes, Bucky just sat on the floor in front of Steve’s cell and stared at him, not saying much. Those times, Steve sat opposite him, hugging his legs to his chest with his skinny arms, gazing at his friend, drinking him in. Other times, Bucky talked, pacing back and forth, gesturing his hands as he tried to parse the memories that were flooding back to him. Steve would quietly watch him move, watching Bucky come back to himself. 

The only memories that Bucky really seemed to be able to remember in full were from the very distant past; he had more trouble with more recent ones. Steve was pretty okay with this situation – he’d prefer that Bucky remember the mostly-pleasant memories of their youth rather than the sure-to-be-horrific memories of his time as the Winter Soldier. But the Soldier memories were coming back, if not at as rapid a pace as his other ones. On days when he remembered the less savory things, refused to tell Steve much of what he was thinking, dismissing him with a dark “you don’t want to know” and a grim smile. It drove Steve bonkers. Thankfully, the bad days were few and far between.

After her initial optimism about their little espionage project, Skye had seemed to give up hope that their Winter Soldier scheme would work – it was gratifying for Steve to see exactly how wrong she was. It was not gratifying at all, however, to realize that Skye didn’t seem to care. Skye, wrapped up in her own misery, barely noticed Bucky’s progress; or if she did, she didn’t seem to think it was a reason to feel optimistic about their chances for survival. It made Steve want to shake her, to somehow force Skye to not lose all hope, to not succumb to the depression that was slowly overtaking her. He knew how depression worked, of course – he had experienced a bout of the blues himself, after the Battle of New York – and he knew he wouldn’t get very far by ordering her to feel better.

The one thing that Steve couldn’t feel optimistic about was the knowledge that somewhere in this very complex, Sam Wilson was being tortured by Hydra. It was Steve’s fault that Sam had even been dragged into this fight – if it hadn’t been for Steve, Sam would still be at home, counselling vets, living a happy life. Instead, he was being put through what Bucky had been through; he was being systematically erased, as a person. There was no saying whether Sam would survive the psychological torture, either. After all, Bucky had enhanced healing skills that were no doubt facilitating his neurological recovery – Sam was an ordinary human being. How much could one man take?

He had explained the situation to Bucky after Bucky had recovered somewhat significantly, and Bucky seemed to brood over it for days. The thought of someone else going through what he had gone through didn’t sit well with him. Steve warned him to not endanger himself by going out of his way to make things easier for Sam – if anyone realized that Bucky was helping the Falcon, he would fall under increased scrutiny, and his visits with Steve might be curtailed. But Bucky found ways to help, nonetheless. He found out where Sam was being held and had the doctors overseeing the “procedures” inform him on Sam’s “progress”. He was able to bring Steve regular updates; was able to tell Steve that Sam was proving “unusually resistant” to mental manipulation. The news helped Steve rally, somewhat – but he wouldn’t feel better about the situation until Sam was free.

 

* * *

 

 

The door slid open, and Skye stood up, hiding her bewilderment behind a soft, neutral expression. It was too late for Ward or Bucky to come, she thought, alarmed. Who could it be? The mystery was solved when John Garrett stalked into view, crocodile’s grin planted on his face, his eyes cold. He stood in front of Skye’s cell and, (there was no other word for it,) _leered_ at her.

Skye crossed her arms, trying to cover herself under the assault of his gaze, even though she was completely clothed. She remembered at the last moment that she was supposed to be friendly to her captors, that she couldn’t be rude to him, no matter how much she wanted to scream and rage at him.

“Hello,” she said, meekly, hating herself, hating him.

“Miss Skye,” said Garrett, too polite. His unctuous tone was set off by the predatory glimmer in his eye.

“Can I do something for you?” she asked nervously, finding it hard to meet his eyes.

“Well, ain’t that a change,” he said, amused, flashing teeth. “When I brought you in you nearly knocked a tooth loose. Now look at you, all pliant; polite. What did Grant do to you, I wonder?”

She said nothing.

His eyes greedily roved over her, and fixed on the bruises Ward had left on her neck, her arms. He laughed, cruelly. “Guess my boy really fucked you up, huh?” he said, sounding proud.

She stared at the floor, blinking away tears. This was utterly degrading. At least Ward wasn’t here to compound the humiliation.

“Leave her alone, Garrett,” said Steve, coming to her rescue, like he always did.

“What did I tell you about talking in my presence, shrimp?” said Garrett, dismissively. Skye realized, with a jolt, that she hadn’t told Steve about Garrett’s desire to “liquidate” him. She had been too wrapped up with her own drama about Ward to warn Steve that it was probably best not to give Garrett more reasons to hate him. Not that Steve would have listened to her, but still. She couldn’t exist in this place without him. She wouldn’t make it.

“Fuck you, you Nazi piece of shit,” said Steve, calmly. “When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you with my bare hands,” he said. Skye’s heart beat faster in fear for Steve. The threats might have been credible coming from Steve the Supersoldier, but coming from Steve the Pipsqueak, as Garrett and Ward called him, they sounded ludicrous. And there was no point in talking him out of making them, Skye knew very well. Steve wasn’t the most practical person in the universe. She was jealous of Steve, she realized. At least Steve was free to say what he really thought of their captors. At least he had the freedom to be himself, even in the worst of circumstances.

Garrett laughed, shaking his head. “Someone still hasn’t quite learned how this works,” he said, eyes fixing on her. “Unlike you. You’re coming along quite nicely, Skye,” he said.

“Thank you,” she muttered after a moment, realizing that was what she was expected to say.

“If you don’t mind,” he said, “I’m coming in. I don’t think it’s quite polite to have this conversation across a barrier.” He keyed in the code on the keypad, and the barrier disappeared in a flash. He stepped into her cell, and she suppressed the urge to take a step backwards; to maintain the distance between them. He sat on her cot, settling in it like it was an armchair. She stood in the same place, unwilling to sit next to him, as he seemed to be gesturing at her to do.

“You are doing something to Ward,” he stated, staring at her unsettlingly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Ward’s always been a committed, loyal soldier,” he said. “But lately, he’s been killing it. Absolutely killing it. He’s been doing everything I ask of him. Not complaining. Going above and beyond the call of duty. And the only thing he asks for when it’s all said and done is permission to see you. Hell, he even asked if he could marry you, the other week,” he said.

Skye glanced at Steve, who stared at her with wide eyes. She felt a pinch of guilt for withholding that from Steve. There was so much she hadn’t told him, so much she was too ashamed to share with him, even though she promised to let him in on everything so they could best plan how to manage Ward together, as a team. But it hadn’t worked out like that. What Steve didn’t understand was that this wasn’t just another undercover operation, like the Black Widow might take on. This wasn’t just a mission, to Skye, and Steve wasn’t her _handler_. This was going into the devil’s lair and staring down Satan; this was sacrificing who she was as a person in order to try and obtain the slimmest chance of escaping this hell. Steve couldn’t help her, no matter how sincerely he tried. This was her battle; hers alone.

“Now,” continued Garrett, oblivious to the exchange taking place between Steve and Skye, “I figure that either the boy is head over heels in love with you, or your pussy must feel like heaven, or both.” He grinned at her lecherously. Skye cringed.

“I like a committed soldier as much as the next commander, but what I don’t like is a soldier who’s more committed to his woman than he is to his team,” continued Garrett. “And that’s exactly what I suspect we have here.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Skye said, not knowing what to do. Her heart beat fast. She was scared of what he’d say next.

Garrett stood up slowly, eyes on her. “So I had an idea. I figure he might not like you quite as much if you weren’t his woman, anymore,” he said, taking a step forward. Skye was rooted to the spot, unable to move.

“S… sir?” she stammered. The sound of her blood rushed in her ears. He was standing close to her – too close. Garrett reached out and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ears, eyes tracing the movement of his hand.

“Think I want to find out for myself what the big deal is,” he murmured slowly, gaze travelling down her body, mapping her curves.

 _Oh god, no_ , thought Skye, a lump rising in her throat. Garrett touched her waist, lightly stroking her.  She shuddered involuntarily and curled in on herself more, hunching her shoulders and crossing her arms across her chest tightly. _Not you too_ , she thought, desperately.

“Unfortunately, I think Ward might actually kill me if I fucked you,” said Garrett, withdrawing his hand and looking at Skye like he hadn’t just been discussing his desire to rape her. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away. “Plus, it’s just plain awkward getting frisky in front of the runt,” he said, gesturing at Steve and winking at her conspiratorially. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to share you around a little,” he said straightening up. “My men don’t have a lot of opportunity to get a lay – there’s only so many whores we can rely on, these days. We’ve got you, might as well put you to work.”

“Please don’t do this, sir,” she whispered, horrified.

He laughed like he hadn’t heard her. “See ya, darlin’,” he said, leaving the cell and locking her back in. “You’ll be getting a visitor real soon,” he said, smiling at her one final time before leaving, before the door slid shut.

Skye covered her face with her hands and sank down to the floor, crouching into a ball and rocking. Tears welled up behind her palms as she tried to stave off a panic attack.

“Skye.” Steve’s deep voice cut through the swirl of her thoughts. “This isn’t going to happen, okay? That’s not going to happen,” he said, calmly, reassuringly.

“How can you know that?” she cried, breath coming in gulps. “What can you do to stop it, sitting in that cell there?”

“I don’t know,” said Steve. “But I’m not letting it happen. We’re going to have to think of something. I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

“I’m already hurt,” she screamed, suddenly furious at Steve. “I’m already being hurt! Ward is fucking destroying me, from the inside out!” she cried.

“This needs to end,” said Steve, looking at her with horror. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“You’re fucking right I can’t keep doing this, Steve!” she shouted, burning with anger. “I got you your precious Bucky. I did it by rolling over and letting Ward _fuck_ me,” she spat.” I don’t want to do it anymore! I don’t want anyone else to hurt me! I just want… I just want…..” She trailed off and dissolved into sobs, anger leaving her as suddenly as it came. It wasn’t fair to Steve to take this out on him, he hadn’t done anything. Whether she played nice with Ward or resisted him the entire time, none of it would have stopped him from raping her. Steve wasn’t the guilty party here; Ward was. Garrett was. Hydra was.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick, looking up at Steve with blurry eyes. He looked stricken, like she had slapped him, and she wanted to wipe that look of guilt off his face. “None of this is your fault,” she said, tired. “You’re not Ward, you’ve only ever tried to help me.”

“I pushed you into this,” croaked Steve, staring at her. “This is my fault, Skye. This is as much my fault as anyone’s.”

“No,” she said, standing up and walking towards Steve. “No, please don’t say that,” she said, crying. “You’re my friend, you’ve always been my friend,” she said, desperately. “We took a bad situation and made something from it. We got Bucky.”

“There had to have been a different way,” said Steve, looking dazed.

“There wasn’t,” she said. “I can do this. I’m not weak. I can handle whatever Garrett sends me,” she said, steeling her voice.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met,” he said, looking at her somberly. “And no one, no matter how strong they are, should ever go through what you’ve been through. We are going to fix this, I promise. We’ve got Bucky now, his memories are coming back fast. We’ll get out of here in no time.”

She didn’t say anything. She was too tired to even cry; it was like all the words and all the tears had been squeezed out of her, and she didn’t have the ability to make any more. Her stomach lurched unexpectedly, and she ran to the toilet, making it just before she threw up. She wasn’t going to think about that; what that might mean. She wasn’t going to go there, not just yet.

 

* * *

 

 

Skye wondered what to tell Ward about Garrett’s visit. In the end, she told him the truth, knowing that it would be worse for her if he found out from a third party. She hadn’t forgotten his threats, and she didn’t want to know what he would do if he ever found out she was hiding the fact that she had been with someone else. She knew it wouldn’t matter if the “infidelity” was actually nonconsensual. She knew that Ward was the kind of man who would blame her for getting raped.

He was furious, of course. He punched the wall, put a hole through it, which terrified Skye, put her on edge. He cursed Garrett, even cried a little, in his frustration. True to form, he fucked her hard after, pinching her cruelly, drawing blood whenever he could. He slammed her up against a wall, hard enough to bruise, and growled into her ear all the things he would do to her if she ever fucked anyone else. (She was beginning to suspect that threatening her with violence helped him get off.) He came inside of her again, afterwards forcing her to lie back on the bed with her hips elevated, as if doing so would increase her chances of getting pregnant. (She hadn’t yet told him about the nausea. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.)

He speculated afterwards, lying on his back, arm curled protectively around Skye, who rested her head on his chest. She listened to his heart, wishing it would stop beating.

“I think it’s going to be Rumlow,” he said. “That asswipe has wanted to get one over on me for years.”

“Maybe,” she said, quietly. She hoped it wasn’t Rumlow. She had heard the stories, from Steve.

“Or the Robot,” he continued, not listening to her. The Robot was his private nickname for the Winter Soldier. “Garrett knows how much I hate that guy.”

“If it’s him, then we don’t have to worry,” said Skye, automatically.

“What do you mean?” he asked, craning his head around to look at her.

She shrugged, tracing patterns on his naked chest. “Rogers is busy cracking him. I don’t think he’d do it, I don’t think he’d do anything Steve didn’t want him to do,” she said, realizing at the last minute what she had implied; that there was an ulterior motive behind all of Bucky’s visits to their prison, that Steve was planning on using Bucky, that Bucky might be under Steve’s control. She didn’t want Ward to figure out that Bucky might soon be disloyal to Hydra – if he realized Steve’s endgame, Ward might find a way to end Bucky’s visits to Steve’s cell. But Ward didn’t seem to have caught on.

“How do you know that skinny little pervert doesn’t want to watch the Robot fuck you?” said Ward, laughing. “Might be kind of hot for him, don’t you think?”

Skye punched him lightly in the shoulder, and he laughed and pretended she had actually hurt him. “Don’t even joke about that, Ward,” she said, putting her head back on his shoulder. “I don’t need to deal with a Peeping Tom situation along with everything else.”

“Yeah,” he said, kissing her temple. “I’ll kill whoever else touches you,” he said, suddenly fierce, squeezing her. “You never have to be scared of anyone else,” he said, mouthing her temple.

“I know,” she said, hugging his chest and burrowing her face into his neck. _I’m more scared of you, Ward, than I ever could be of someone else_ , she thought, angrily, realizing it was true. She’d actually _prefer_ being raped by Rumlow or any other anonymous Hydra asshole to being raped by Ward. At least they wouldn’t make her pretend she liked it. She hugged him again, like it would give her added protection against Ward if he suddenly developed mind-reading powers and figured out her seditious thoughts.

He flipped them over and kissed her deeply, pressing her into the mattress. She kissed back enthusiastically – it was always best to do everything very _enthusiastically_ with Ward – and felt him harden against her thigh. She cursed him, silently. He had the stamina of an eighteen year-old. He had fucked her four times during their last visit, and had already joked during this visit that he aimed to beat that record. Other than their very first session, he hadn’t once made her come; hadn’t even put the effort in. Ludicrously, Skye felt herself grow indignant on behalf of all Ward’s previous partners – how awful for them to have been stuck with such a selfish lover. For herself, she was grateful that he was so self-absorbed – she never wanted to have a Ward-induced orgasm again.

He groaned with lust ( _the animal_ , she thought) and latched onto her neck. She rolled her eyes, safe in the knowledge that Ward wouldn’t see. Wouldn’t he ever tire of her neck? She had never met anyone with such a fetish for necks. She was getting sick of returning to Steve looking like she had survived an attempted strangulation, from all the bruises he kept leaving on her damn neck. He mindlessly humped her thigh and she automatically spread her legs to accommodate him, reaching down to position him. He slid in with a sigh, and began rutting against her. She wondered if he was going to come inside her again, or if once a day was enough for him. Her shower had been this morning, she realized, trying to not groan out loud. That meant she’d have to wait at least thirty-six more hours before being able to wash this junk off – she’d have to deal with icky, dried semen flaking off her skin, making her skin feel unbearably tight, for _thirty-six hours_.

She suppressed a sigh and began moving her hips to meet his, doing whatever she could to make this go faster. She hoped this was the last time she’d have to do this.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky visited their prison three nights later. Both Steve and Skye were asleep. They were woken up by someone clearing their throat loudly – Skye woke up and saw Bucky turning the lights on. 

“Bucky!” exclaimed Steve, standing. “This isn’t at the normal time!” he said, smiling. Skye looked at Steve, marveling at the change in him. Steve was generally a pretty happy guy when interacting with Skye – he was downright giddy, when speaking to Bucky.

“Hey, Rogers,” said Bucky, gruffly. He smiled at Steve softly. For a guy who got a lot of currency out of looking scary, it wasn’t in Bucky’s interest to smile very often. There was something sweet about watching him try.

“What are you doing here?” asked Steve.

“Ain’t a pleasure call,” he said, smile slipping off his face. “Here on Garrett’s orders.” He glanced in Skye’s direction and averted his eyes.

“Oh no,” said Skye, understanding instantly. She sat down on the bed with a thump.  

“Really? Why would he want you down here?” asked Steve, smile faltering. “Unless…” he looked at Skye. “Oh,” he said, realization dawning on his face. He looked at Bucky, eyes wide. Skye had told Steve of the possibility that her mysterious “visitor” might be the Winter Soldier, and Steve had shared her conviction that Skye would be safe with Bucky. Still, he seemed to be holding his breath along with Skye, waiting to see what Bucky would do next.

“He wants to reward me, for my service to Hydra,” muttered Bucky. He looked at his feet, and said nothing.

“And what are you going to do about that, Bucky?” asked Steve, carefully. Skye grit her teeth, steeling herself for anything.

“What do you think I’m going to do?” said Bucky, angrily. He looked at Steve. “I don’t remember much, Rogers, but I remember I never did that to a girl. At least…” he looked down again, voice faltering, “not before Hydra took me.”

Skye didn’t much want to think about that. Steve looked stunned.

“They made you… really?” he said, weakly.

“Really,” said Bucky, grimly. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Steve.” He glanced at Skye, and quickly averted his eyes. “The point is,” he said, loudly, as if making extra sure she could hear. “I don’t particularly want to do any more bad things.”

Skye sighed, in relief. Steve had been right all along; Bucky wouldn’t hurt her. “Thank god Garrett didn’t pick Rumlow,” said Skye lightly, trying to smile.

“Yeah, he’d… yeah,” said Bucky, awkwardly. “Look, I’m sorry about all of this,” he muttered, turning towards Skye.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” said Skye. Bucky looked at her, surprised. “Really,” she said sincerely, beaming at him. “You’re a prince, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky actually blushed. Skye felt like hugging him. She probably would have, if it weren’t for the barrier.

“So anyways,” said Bucky, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is kind of the last straw, for me. I’m done with Garrett and, well, this whole place. I figure it’s time to get out of here,” said Bucky.

“Wait, what?” said Skye, taken aback.

“Yeah, you and Steve. I’m not letting you stay here a second longer; I know what Ward is doing to you, I’m not an idiot,” said Bucky, sourly. He turned to Steve. “And I know the study they’re doing on you  is almost over, they’re planning on getting rid of you in the next few weeks. I can’t let that happen,” he said, fiercely. “You’re… you gave me back my life, Steve. I can’t lose you.”

Steve stared at Bucky, overwhelmed. “Bucky,” he said, when he found his voice. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you can’t just break us out like that, you need a plan.”

“I have a plan,” said Bucky, stubbornly. “I take you, we run for it. No one will stop us, it’s almost midnight. The security here is actually pretty lax. It’s overconfidence. Garrett’s not actually that good at running things.”

“We need to get Sam,” Steve insisted.

“I’ve thought about that, too,” said Bucky, entering a code onto the keypad next to Steve’s cell. The barrier disappeared with a flash.

Steve stepped out of his cell, slowly, eyes on Bucky. “You have?” The corner of his mouth quirked up into a fond smile.

“Yeah, what did you think, Rogers, I’d leave him where he is? What do you take me for?” said Bucky, indignantly. He freed Skye, and with a lump in her throat, Skye left her cell. She couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Steve wasn’t done. “But what about after we leave Hydra? What about money? A car? Firepower, if they come after us?”

Bucky walked up towards Steve and touched his cheek, fondly. It was an intimate gesture, their first contact in almost seventy years, realized Skye, with a jolt. Steve took a sharp breath and placed his hand over Bucky’s, holding it in place. “Money, I have. I have access to secret accounts that no one but Pierce knew about, and Pierce is dead. A car, I can hotwire. So can you, for that matter.  And I’m counting on not needing any weapons, because we’ll be far away before anyone notices,” he said, smiling softly. “I’m good at this. They made me very good at this.”

“You thought of everything,” said Steve, gazing at Bucky, love written on his face.

Bucky looked embarrassed, but he didn’t look away. “Not really,” he said. “I’m just sorta winging it, here.”

“Good enough,” said Steve, softly. They stared at each other, transfixed.

 “All right!” said Skye enthusiastically, after a moment. Steve and Bucky looked at her, both blushing and grinning like they had been caught making out in a closet. “C’mon, lovebirds; let’s blow this joint.”

 

* * *

 

 

Escaping Hydra, as it turns out, nowhere near as difficult as Steve had thought it would be. There were no last minute battles with Ward or Garrett; they never once ran into Rumlow. The hard part was rescuing Sam, and that even wasn’t that hard. They broke into the lab that Sam was being kept in, and found him sleeping on the floor of an isolation chamber. He woke up with some difficulty – he looked undernourished and very, very tired, but he managed to crack a small smile when he saw Steve. (“Cap, it looks like someone deflated you like a tire.” “Fuck you, Wilson.”) They escaped without a single person seeing them – Bucky was able to neutralize the night guards with a pilfered tranquilizer gun.

Bucky stole a Humvee and twenty minutes later, the four were across state lines. Steve kept sneaking glances at Skye, happy to see her smiling for a change; she cheered when Steve looked at the mileometer and declared that they were officially one hundred miles away from Hydra.

They avoided major highways and Bucky took care to stick to back roads. He kept making everyone change vehicles – he clearly knew what he was doing; knew how to stay under the radar. Steve didn’t want to think about how he had obtained these skills. He didn’t want to think about all the covert missions Bucky had undertaken over the years. When morning came, they found a Salvation Army store (with no security cameras), and finally changed out of their ugly orange jumpsuits. Even though it was summer, Bucky made sure to wear long sleeves and gloves, in order to cover up his metal arm.

Bucky provided Skye with a laptop stolen from a Starbucks; Skye was able to hack into Hydra’s private communications within fifteen minutes. Garrett had discovered their disappearance about half an hour ago – a full eight hours after they had escaped. By that point, they were five states away. They were definitely on the run, but out of immediate danger.

All of them (with the exception of Sam) traded off on driving responsibilities, but Bucky took the most driving time. Steve took shotgun, naturally. They drove in companionable silence, taking in the scenery – miles and miles of prairie and farmland. Bucky had tied his hair back with a rubber band he found in the glove compartment, and he turned towards Steve and smiled at him, tentatively. Steve smiled back, gazing at Bucky as Bucky turned his attention back to the road. He looked healthy and happy, thought Steve; he barely resembled the hardened soldier whom he had fought on the bridge. Bucky had a day’s worth of stubble and was wearing a new pair of aviator sunglasses – he looked like a normal guy who had decided to go on a road-trip with his friends, not a military assassin on the run from the clandestine organization he worked for. Steve’s heart ached with happiness.

After twenty-four hours on the road, Skye had insisted that they take a break; that they needed to recoup. That night, they checked into a shady looking motel (one that definitely lacked proper security cameras), and Steve registered them under the names of his and Bucky’s long-dead neighbors in Brooklyn, just for fun.

They got two rooms, but Sam took the second room alone. There was an unspoken agreement that Skye wouldn’t leave Steve’s side, which meant the three of them, Steve, Bucky and Skye, shared a room.  They took turns showering, scrubbing away the dried sweat that had accumulated over the last day, and Steve monopolized the bathroom for the better part of a half hour, taking great pleasure in shaving his scraggly beard off. Having a smooth face again made freedom feel real.

Skye fell asleep first. She had made sure Steve had paid attention when she put in earplugs, and she had winked salaciously at Bucky while assuring him that she was a _very_ sound sleeper. Steve had blushed, and Bucky had grinned at him, with a look on his face that said he wanted to test exactly how peaceful a sleeper Skye really was – and now they were lying on the second bed next to each other, heads on the same pillow, staring at each other.

“What are you looking at, punk?” said Steve, with a fierceness that was belied by the soft expression on his face.

“You,” said Bucky. He gazed at Steve, eyes shining with affection. Steve took a deep breath, closed his eyes and opened them again. Bucky was still there – this was real, this was actually happening.

The man before him wasn’t the Bucky that Steve had known most of his life; this Bucky was too stoic, too tranquil. When they were kids, Bucky was always getting in trouble for fidgeting; had always been in the doghouse with the nuns for being unable to stop moving. Bucky had a _mercurial energy_ , as a drunken date had once declared at the end of a double gone wrong. He had been like a flickering flame; dancing out of view just when you thought you had a fix on him. Hydra had found a way to still Bucky Barnes – they had given him a solidity, an immobility that had never existed before. But underneath it, somehow, was the same old soul. The light still shined just as bright, even if the flame had been frozen in place.

Steve crossed the distance between them to place a small, tentative kiss on Bucky’s lips. Their breath mingled as they looked at each other, taking each other in. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you, Bucky Barnes,” whispered Steve.

“When? When we were six, or when I found you in that prison cell?” asked Bucky, mouth sliding into a grin.

“How about all of the above?” said Steve, chuckling. Bucky kissed him swiftly, cutting him off mid-laugh. Laughter turned into hushed moans, stifled sounds that escaped even as they labored to remain quiet for Skye’s benefit. Bucky caressed Steve’s face carefully, as if Steve would break if even the slightest bit of pressure was applied. Steve usually hated being babied – especially by _Bucky_ , of all people – but tonight, he craved gentleness. He wanted to be treated like glass; there was something intoxicating about giving Bucky back the ability to be sweet, to take his time, to love with delicacy.

Bucky pulled away first, resting his forehead on Steve’s. He breathed heavily, his eyes closed, overwhelmed.  Steve watched him carefully; observed the hollows in his cheeks, the long, lank hair falling onto the pillow, the cleft in his chin that Steve had always loved to run his thumb over when they kissed.

Steve slid his body along Bucky’s, hands spanning his shoulders, moving up to caress his neck. Steve climbed on top, still kissing him, nipping his bottom lip. He threw off the sheet that covered them, and fully straddled Bucky, sitting on Bucky’s hardening cock, undulating his hips slightly. He stared at Bucky, who gripped his thin hips with large hands (one flesh, one metal,) and started to thrust up into him. Bucky stared back, eyes dark with want. Steve had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Stevie,” Bucky said, faltering, as if unsure how to proceed. “I want you, I want to be inside you,” he said, out loud. Steve shushed him on instinct, and leaned down to kiss him softly.

“You can do whatever you want with me, Bucky,” he said, quietly. “I’m completely yours, I always have been.”

Bucky made a broken sound and turned them over, positioning Steve under him, gripping Steve’s narrow arms,  running his hands up and down Steve’s body. Suddenly clothes were being shed – Steve yanking Bucky’s t-shirt off, Bucky helping Steve shimmy out of his jeans – and skin touched skin.

Steve gasped at the feel of the wide expanse of Bucky’s body against his, moving, thrusting. Steve’s body responded in the way it always had to Bucky – Steve bucked and moaned and lifted his thin hips to thrust his dick against Bucky’s thick cock. If there was a difference between then and now, it was that Bucky was somehow more solid than he used to be, more of a presence above him. He was thicker now; his abs were more defined, his arms had more bulk on them than they used to have. Bucky’s hair fell down around Steve, feathery ends tickling his cheeks.

“Bucky,” gasped Steve, as Bucky frantically kissed him. “Bucky, hold on.” Bucky stopped immediately, looking at Steve with the air of a child being caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Are you okay?” Bucky whispered, voice tight with worry.

“Yeah, baby,” said Steve, smiling at Bucky reassuringly. “It’s just… we don’t have anything. You know.”

“Oh,” said Bucky, realization dawning. “No Vaseline?”

“No lube,” said Steve, correcting him. “They make better stuff now. Meant for this. Doesn’t really matter, since we don’t have any.”

“It could be like that night behind the Webster,” whispered Bucky, smiling shyly at Steve. Steve’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You remember that?” Steve said, excited, voice hushed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to say it in front of Skye,” said Bucky. Steve was almost sure that Bucky was blushing. “It was… too personal. I wanted to wait ‘til we were alone to tell you.”

“You shocked the hell out of me that night, Buck,” said Steve, grinning at him. “Couldn’t wait ‘til we got home, had to fuck me against the wall of the goddamn bar…”

“You looked good,” said Bucky roughly, ducking down to kiss Steve. “You looked so good, I had to have you.”

“Hurt like hell the next day, though,” said Steve.

“Yeah,” said Bucky, looking deflated.

“Wait, I have an idea,” said Steve. He pecked Bucky on the lips and pushed at Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky got the message and lay flat on his back. Steve slid down Bucky’s body and enveloped Bucky’s cock in his mouth, swallowing him down in one go. Muscle memory took over as he pursed his lips and milked Bucky’s length, laving him with his tongue, making sure to get Bucky’s cock as wet as possible. Bucky threw his head back, arched his back. His body became one taut, delicious line – Steve watched appreciatively as Bucky tried to contain himself, muscles jumping in his throat, abs contracting as he made soft keening noises, loud enough for Steve to hear but quiet enough that Skye wouldn’t be disturbed.

Steve pulled off with a pop, and surged up to kiss Bucky, who aggressively kissed back, thrusting his tongue into Steve’s mouth, metal hand gripping Steve by the hair.

“Turn around,” whispered Bucky, and Steve complied, knowing where this was going. Bucky sat up, and gripped Steve’s ass in his big hands. He parted his cheeks, placing a tentative kiss on Steve’s tiny hole, before he licked deep into him, making Steve curse under his breath and fall onto all fours, almost thrusting his ass into Bucky’s face. Bucky licked and sucked and kissed; the tight ring of muscle became looser, and Bucky was able to slip one calloused finger inside, massaging him gently, then two. He kissed and sucked and the sounds faded into the background as Steve concentrated on just how good it felt, to have someone take care of him like this. Bucky aimed and spit on Steve’s asshole, working it in with his fingers, making Steve even more wet and sloppy.

“You ready?” whispered Bucky when he reached three fingers, his voice rough.

“Yeah, just go slow,” said Steve.

Bucky sat up fully, backing up against the headboard. Steve turned around and sat in Bucky’s lap, facing him. They kissed, chastely, Steve cradling Bucky’s face in his hands, relishing the burn of the stubble against his palms. His cock was wedged between his and Bucky’s body – he was damp at the tip as he moved against Bucky, sliding up and down. Bucky’s wet cockhead nudged at Steve’s loosened, wet entrance, and Steve gasped into Bucky’s mouth as Bucky pressed in, spreading him wide.

It hurt, yes, but the burn was delicious – Steve sunk down onto Bucky, thighs straining with the effort of going slowly. Bucky’s large hands cradled Steve’s hips, callused skin and smooth metal lightly holding Steve’s bony hips, but not applying any pressure, letting Steve fully control his descent. Finally, Steve was seated on Bucky, feeling almost unbearably full. Bucky’s mouth was open, he panted with the effort of restraining himself. He was staring at Steve like he was his world, his whole life. Steve felt like his heart would burst, he didn’t know how anyone could stand to be this much in love. He leaned forward and kissed the side of Bucky’s mouth, the bow of his lips, his nose, the high of his cheek.

“Move,” he ordered into Bucky’s ear, his cheek against Bucky’s, sighing as Bucky instantly complied, lifting Steve up by the hips, dragging him off his cock. The air was squeezed out of his lungs as Bucky fucked up into him. Steve leaned back, adjusting himself so Bucky was pressing against that _spot_ , so that when Bucky withdrew again, he groaned out loud at the sensation. Steve’s cock, which had gone limp in the time it took to adjust to Bucky’s size, began hardening again. They went faster and faster until both Steve and Bucky were gasping and Steve’s cock was full and leaking again.

Bucky made a broken sound and bent forward, gently laying Steve onto his back. He placed Steve’s thin legs over his broad shoulders, carefully bending Steve at the hips, still completely sheathed in his heat. Steve panted as Bucky began to move again, tiny thrusts at first, then longer strokes. Each fuck sent a jolt through him as Bucky brushed against that sensitive gland. Steve began to push back, helping Bucky reach further inside him. Sweat shone off Bucky’s lower stomach as his hips pistoned in and out.

Steve threw his head back onto the sheets and groped wildly for Bucky’s hand – he grabbed it and placed it on his cock, gesturing for Bucky to jerk him. Bucky complied quickly, moving his hand fast. The pressure rose and rose and finally became too much – Steve came, shooting all over his stomach and chest, groaning out loud, unable to keep the sounds in. Bucky followed fast, making soft humming noises as he pulled out and began fisting his cock. He came as well, his cock jerking. His come mingled with Steve’s, making a beautiful mess all over Steve’s torso.

Bucky collapsed over Steve, but made sure not to throw his weight onto him. Bucky braced himself above Steve with his arms, caging him in. Steve beamed at Bucky, glowing with happiness.

“Hey,” whispered Steve, dragging his hands along Bucky’s sides to relax him. Bucky was breathing hard, trying to recover after his exertion.

“Hi,” said Bucky. He bent down to kiss Steve softly, slowly, before settling next to Steve, gently petting his hair, staring at him wide-eyed, like he couldn’t quite believe Steve existed.

Steve hoisted himself up and out of bed before Bucky could do anything to stop him, going to the bathroom for a warm washcloth. He cleaned himself up and settled back into bed, draping himself along Bucky’s back. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s torso, pulling him close. Steve buried his face in Bucky’s hair, which smelled of soap and sweat.

“I love you, Bucky,” said Steve huskily, kissing the back of Bucky’s neck, “and I’m never going to leave you again.” Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s arm, squeezing him tight. Steve pulled the sheet over them and nestled in even closer.

They fell asleep to the sound of their own heartbeats. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. This is officially the end of the bad stuff. I can actually read what comes next, because it's over. Skye's free. Steve's free. Bucky and Sam are free. Now it's just time for revenge. And cuddling. But MOSTLY REVENGE.


	5. Limitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye and Steve reunite with the team!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter! Sorry for making everyone wait so long. No warnings in this chapter, miraculously. We've reached the end of the hard parts. This is a chapter of fluff, pretty much.
> 
> Well, I should say everyone in this chapter is dealing with the effects of trauma, but that's kind of a given, for this fic. 
> 
> And there's a tad bit of Skye/Coulson. A really small, hint of it, really. I couldn't help myself. It's easily ignorable if you want to ignore it. I won't really develop it until the sequel, most likely. 
> 
> Again, anyone posting negative comments will have their comments screenshot and deleted immediately. I will probably post your comment on tumblr and make fun of you, with my friends. I won't black out your name, either. I'm absolutely sick of having my comment section be a place to scream at me about the morality of writing a story that involves rape, or how I'm writing Ward wrong. I don't care what you have to say, move on, leave me alone. It is ridiculous that I have to even add these disclaimers every time I want to post a chapter of this story, but such is life, I guess.

**Chapter 5: Limitations**

 

Skye stretched awake, blinking against the sunlight that streamed across her bed. The curtains were open; they gently waved in the wind. A cool breeze caressed her and she closed her eyes, fully intending to go back to sleep—until she remembered where she was.

She sat up instantly, eyes wide open, and looked around her. The motel room. She looked down at herself. T-shirt, instead of orange jumpsuit. Soft mattress instead of hard cot. She looked over to where Steve and Bucky lay. They were spooning, Steve cradling Bucky as they slept, and they were bare-chested—if Skye remembered correctly, they definitely had been clothed when they climbed into bed last night. Skye looked at Steve for a moment, letting herself feel happy for him. She carefully climbed out of bed, slid on her jeans, and left the room, intending to go find some food.

There was no complimentary breakfast at this motel—this wasn’t the Holiday Inn, after all. The motel shared a parking lot with a seedy-looking Chinese restaurant that seemed to be open, so she went there. She walked into the empty, badly-lit restaurant, wondering if she’d be able to get something with caffeine in it. A waiter greeted her and sat her in a booth. She scanned her environment. There was one other person sitting at a booth on the other side of the restaurant, head down, engrossed in reading the paper. She realized it was Sam Wilson, and swore, silently. She was tempted to pretend she hadn’t seen him, she _really_ wanted to be alone right now, but it might make things uncomfortable, later on. Making a decision, she stood up and went over to his table, seating herself awkwardly in front of him.

“Hey there!” said Sam, smiling at her. He looked well-rested, much better than yesterday. He was a handsome man, she had noticed that yesterday, but when he smiled he became downright gorgeous.

“Hi,” she said, awkwardly. “We didn’t really talk. Yesterday. Hi. I’m Skye.”

“I know,” said Sam, nodding. “Steve told me about you when you were napping in the car.”

“Oh,” said Skye, dumbly. “Hey, I… uh. I’m sorry about… everything they put you through,” she said, internally cringing. What a thing to bring up when you meet someone. Hi, sorry you got tortured by Nazis, I’m Skye, how are you?

“Yeah, that was quite an experience,” he said, laughing grimly. “Don’t want to repeat it, I can tell you that much.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” said Skye. Silence rang out between them. Skye started playing with the paper menu, for want of something to do. God, she had been good at this at one point.

“Heard you had a pretty awful time yourself,” said Sam finally, looking at her with kind eyes. He poured her a cup of jasmine tea.

“I… yeah,” said Skye, looking at her hands. She wondered how much Steve had told him, and found herself ardently hoping he had spared Sam the most potent details. She felt exposed under Sam’s gaze – he was looking at her with too much insight, too much understanding.

“So you fought with Cap, huh?” she said with a smile, in a naked attempt to change the subject. He laughed.

“Yeah, for maybe twenty minutes,” said Sam, smiling at her a little sadly. “Then your friend _Bucky_ broke my wings,” he said, shrugging, taking a sip of his tea.

“Not a fan of the Winter Soldier?” asked Skye.

“Hey, if Steve says he’s not evil, then he’s not evil,” said Sam, raising his hands in surrender. “All I’m saying is, dude broke my wings.”

Skye laughed, and Sam joined in with her.

“I did get away,” said Sam, “which was lucky. Got caught a week later, on an op with the Black Widow.”

“I heard,” said Skye. She figured Sam was just as reluctant to discuss his internment as she was hers. She changed the subject. “Bucky’s a good guy now, though,” she said, lightly.

“He did break me out,” said Sam. “I owe him.”

“Yeah. If it wasn’t for him, I’d still be…” she trailed off. “Um. You know, in there,” she finished, lamely. Sam didn’t look at her sympathetically, he didn’t ask her to elaborate, he just smiled and dug into his lo mein, which had just arrived. Skye thought she loved him, a little.

She took a bite of her spring roll, savoring the taste of real food on her tongue. “Wow, I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” she said, stealing a bite of Sam’s lo mein. He batted away her fork with his chopsticks.

“Get your own, you thief,” he said, with faux outrage.

They proceeded to have a mini-battle with their utensils.

“Looks like you two are having fun.” Skye whipped her head around, and saw Steve standing there, with Bucky shadowing him. Steve grinned at Skye, fondly. She smiled back.

“Nice to see you out of orange,” she said. “Blue’s a good color on you, Rogers. Brings out your eyes.”

“You’re gorgeous, darling,” said Sam, teasingly.

“Shut up, Sam,” said Steve, cheerfully, sliding in next to him. Bucky sat next to Skye, making sure he left a decent distance between them.

“Sleep well?” Skye asked Steve, eyes twinkling.

Steve blushed. “That’s an answer,” said Skye, taking a sip of her tea and grinning at him.

“Shut up, Skye,” he said, but he was laughing.

They ordered another round of food and ate until they were stuffed – something none of them had been able to do, in recent months. They paid and left, walking back to the hotel, not knowing where else to go. Skye settled on her bed with her new laptop, and confirmed for everyone that Hydra had no idea where they were.

 “Check out this memo, guys. They’re sending out search teams for us, as many as they can afford. I wonder why? They didn’t care about us when they had us,” said Skye, frowning.

“They didn’t care about you and me,” corrected Steve. “They had big plans for Sam.” Sam shuddered, and Skye felt a pang of sympathy for him. “They probably want him back, they’ve put two and a half months of work into him.”

“They want me,” said Bucky, voice gruff. Skye looked up, surprised. It was the first thing he had said all morning. “If they want Wilson, they’re going to want me. They put seventy years of work into me,” he said, quietly.

“All the more reason to get things moving,” said Steve, clapping his hands and standing up.

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“We’ve got to bring down Hydra,” he said, simply.

“And I’ve got to fly to the moon,” said Sam, looking at Steve like he was nuts.

“I mean it, Sam,” said Steve. “None of us will be free until Hydra is dead and gone.”

“Cut one head off, another one grows,” said Bucky, heavily. “Steve, there’s no defeating Hydra. We thought we did it in 1945; we just enabled them to take over the world.”

“So, what,” cried Steve, turning to Bucky, angrily. “We just let them go scot-free? After what they did to you? After what they did to all of you?” said Steve, looking at Skye and Sam.  “I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. I died to defeat Hydra, I intend to actually do it this time!” As soon as he finished his speech, he started coughing. A hacking cough shook his small frame, and Bucky rubbed his bony back, trying in vain to help him through it. Skye and Sam looked at each other in alarm.

“Steve, how long have you had that cough?” asked Sam, concern in his voice.

“Uh, since 1925,” said Steve, smiling weakly. His eyes were watering, but at least he had stopped coughing. “Asthma. One of the many things wrong with me that the serum cured. Was wondering when that would crop up again.”

“You need to slow down,” said Skye, pointedly. “You can’t take on as much as you did when you had the serum. I’m worried about you, dude.”

It had been the wrong thing to say. Steve crossed his arms and glared at Skye. “I’m _fine_ , Skye. I don’t need to be coddled.”

“No, but you can’t charge into the Triskelion and destroy Hydra single-handedly,” said Bucky, firmly. Skye got the feeling that Bucky had tried to talk Steve out of a lot of things, over the years.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Skye pre-empted him. “Look, we can’t do anything until we get reinforcements. We need to meet up with Coulson and May; we need to form a plan,” she said.

“Skye’s right,” said Sam. “I wouldn’t mind knowing where Natasha is, too. How do we find everyone?”

“Okay, I can help with that part,” said Skye. “I was going to do this last night, but I was way too tired. It’s something Coulson and I set up – if we ever get separated and we need the team to reassemble, you upload your coordinates so they can find you.”

“Great,” said Sam. “Where do we do that?”

Skye grinned. She typed something into the address bar and showed everyone. It was a Corvette fansite, complete with pictures of classic cars and a chatroom where middle-aged car nuts could presumably brag about their “babies” to each other. The site was painfully old, obviously assembled by a novice. It looked like it was built using geocities. “We figured Hydra probably wouldn’t think to look here. By the way, this is totally Agent Coulson’s favorite, most-visited website. Seriously, he has like, thousands of posts. Found it in his history when I was hacking his computer.”

“Why’d you hack Coulson’s computer?” asked Steve, brows furrowed.

“It was my first week with the team, no one trusted me, I didn’t trust them, I got bored,” said Skye, shrugging. “Only Coulson and I know about this, so there’s no chance that Ward will check,” she said, hoping no one noticed that her tone changed slightly when she mentioned that name. She started typing furiously.

“Done,” she said, half a minute later. She put the laptop back on the bed and grinned, proudly.

“That was easy,” said Steve, surprised.

“Now we just need to wait for Coulson to find us,” said Skye, leaning back on her arms.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They amused themselves for the rest of the day by hanging out in the motel pool – they stripped down to their underwear and waded in, sunbathing by the poolside when the water became boring. Steve, not so surprisingly, was a little shit in the pool, taking every opportunity he could to splash someone or push them in. Steve and Bucky were adorable; Bucky not-so-subtly taking every opportunity he could to get his hands on Steve’s slender body, Steve constantly jumping on Bucky, trying to wrestle the much larger man without much success.

Skye watched them fondly as she lolled on the lounge-chair by the pool, occasionally reading a Cosmopolitan she had found in the lobby. Sam joined her after a little while, tiring out easily. He commandeered the only other lounge-chair and slept, letting the sun caress his bruised body. Skye tried to keep her eyes to herself out of respect, but she couldn’t help but notice the large number of very recently healed injuries that spanned his torso.

Eventually, she got tired of sunbathing and put her clothes back on. She stole the paperback Sam had found somewhere, and went out to the parking lot to keep an eye out for the team. Truth was, it was getting kind of late – the sun was hinting that it was about to set – and she was a little worried that no one had come for them just yet. Ward had confirmed for her that Coulson and May were alive two weeks ago, but that was two weeks ago. Anything could have happened to them in the meantime.

_Calm down, Skye_ , she thought, trying to be firm with herself. She sat down in a folding chair someone had placed in front of the front office. Who knows where Coulson and May were when they saw the signal. Who knows how long it would take to get to them, especially if they didn’t have a plane. _Maybe they never checked for the signal_ , thought Skye. _Maybe Coulson just assumed I was dead._ Her stomach flipped as she considered the possibility that A.C. had given up on her, had moved on. She shook her head and tried once and for all to stop obsessing over it.

Skye opened her book and put it down after reading two pages. John Le Carre. Espionage. Secret Agents. Didn’t quite help get her mind off things. She crossed her arms and frowned at no one in particular. She wished she had remembered to bring the Cosmo out from the pool.

A shadow fell over her, and she looked up. Melinda May stood in front of the setting sun, the red-orange rays casting her in silhouette. She had her hands on her hips, and Skye felt her heart stop. She stood up, slowly, ignoring the book that fell from her lap, and stood face-to-face with May, transfixed.

“You’re late,” said May sternly, hands on her hips, tilting her sunglasses down to glare at Skye.

Skye flung her arms around her, knocking her off balance. She buried her face in May’s hair, squeezing her suddenly damn eyes. May brought her hands up around Skye’s torso, holding her.

“You’re here,” whispered Skye, voice cracking.

“We’re here,” said May, quietly, reassuringly.

“What, no five-star welcome for us?”

Skye turned and saw Fitz and Simmons standing behind her, Fitz with his hands on his hips in mock outrage, Simmons smiling, wringing her hands in nervous excitement.

“Guys,” said Skye, tearing up. She threw her arms around their necks, squeezing.

“Easy there, Skye,” said Leo indignantly . “You’re going to strangle us.” But he brought his arms around her, hugging her back.

Jemma sniffed loudly and patted Skye on the back. “You gave us a scare there, Skye,” she said, gently. She pulled back and waggled her finger. “Don’t do that again,” she said, mock sternly. Skye laughed and hugged her again.

Skye let Simmons go, and looked at May. “Where’s Coulson?” she asked, voice thick.

“I’m here.” Coulson emerged from the parking lot, wearing his customary suit and tie, looking so goddamn familiar that Skye almost lost it, right there.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice shaky, her feet rooted to the spot. Coulson walked up to her, and took off his sunglasses. His eyes were shining unusually bright. Skye couldn’t take her eyes off of him, though her vision became blurry with tears. He reached out (his hand trembling, somewhat) and brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face, tucking it lovingly behind her ear.

“Ward told us you were alive,” he said, quietly, “weeks ago. But we didn’t dare hope…”

Skye’s face crumpled and she flung her arms around Coulson, squeezing him so hard he buckled a little under her.

“You’re back,” he whispered  into her ear, kissing her hair as she shook and cried. “That’s all that matters,” he said, over and over again. “You’re home.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Who’s here, why are you being so secretive?” asked Jemma, following Skye through the motel.

“You’ll see,” called Skye, giddy with excitement. She heard indignant scolding as she neared the pool (“—no, Bucky, I saw you open your eyes; you can’t do that in Marco Polo. You cheated, which means you forfeit –“), and she grinned. She opened the door and stood back as her team entered the pool. “Guys, meet Captain America,” she said.

Steve Rogers was standing at the edge of the pool, tiny fists on his hips, lecturing Bucky and Sam, his sopping wet boxers clinging to his skinny legs. Sam looked amused, Bucky looked like he wanted to interrupt Steve and argue with him.

“Hey, Steve,” called Skye.

He looked up. “What, Skye?” he said, irritably. “I’m busy.”

She smiled. “Look who’s here.”

Steve looked behind her and his eyes widened in shock. “Agent Coulson!” he said, walking towards Coulson.

Coulson stared at Steve, mouth open in naked shock. “Captain Rogers,” he said, faintly. “We thought you were dead.”

“Not dead, just smaller,” said Steve, grinning, shaking his hand. “And by the way, this is nothing compared to what you put us through,” he said, sternly. “Clint and Natasha are going to flip out when they hear that you’re alive.”

“They know,” said Coulson, coming back to himself, but still looking at Steve with amazement. “They were level eight clearance at SHEILD. They’re with us now, actually.”

“Of course they knew,” said Steve, rolling his eyes. “Where is Tony? Thor? Bruce?”

“In New York,” said Coulson. “Even Hydra has a hard time touching Stark Industries. And, well, Asgard.”

“All right, when do we leave?” asked Steve, looking excited.

“Meet my friends first,” insisted Skye. She introduced May and FitzSimmons, then introduced everyone to Sam and Bucky, who had come out of the pool to say hello. A brief summary of the events was given by both sides; Skye left out the Ward bits, and Coulson told everyone how they had been travelling the country in a stolen Quinjet, trying to keep one step ahead of Hydra.

They packed up their meager possessions and left in the SUV May had commandeered from somewhere, boarding the team’s plane. It was nowhere near as luxurious as the Bus had been – but the flight was short, and before they knew it, they were at a SHIELD base called Providence, and Skye felt as if she was at home for the first time in months.

 

* * *

 

Skye stirred the pot of cocoa, watching the chocolate dissolve in the milk, getting lost in the curls and whorls. She used to do this as a teenager; sneaking into the kitchen at 3 AM, long after everyone else in the group home had gone to bed, making hot chocolate as quietly as possible, so as not to wake anyone who might give her hell for it the next morning. Skye was known to be a disaster in the kitchen, and this was the only food-related thing she was considered excellent at: making a mean pot of cocoa. It was the first night back to normalcy—or whatever counted as normalcy, for her—and for some reason she felt compelled to go through the motions of her oldest, most cherished tradition. She needed the security blanket, she supposed.

“Can’t sleep?”

Skye looked around for the source of the intrusion, smiling softly when she saw Coulson in a t-shirt and striped pajama pants, leaning on the kitchen island. “Weird day,” she said.

“Good day, though,” said Coulson, gazing at her fondly.

“Nice to be home,” she said, nodding.

“Making cocoa?” said Coulson, trying to not sound too eager, craning his neck anyway.

“Yes. Hush. You’ll get a mug.”

Coulson smiled at her, and moved to the stove. They stood shoulder to shoulder, both watching as Skye stirred the cocoa, slowly. He was an inch away from her, and she could feel him; feel the heat radiating off his body. The hairs pricked at the back of her neck. This was the first time since the reunion that they had the chance to be alone together – the day had been sucked up by introductions, strategy meetings, and conference calls with the other Avengers.

“What exactly did Ward tell you, about me?” asked Skye, finally getting the chance to ask the question that had been on her mind since she first saw Coulson earlier today.

She felt him stiffen next to her. “I don’t know if he was lying, just trying to get under my skin,” Coulson responded, after a moment. “He implied some pretty horrible things, about you, and his relationship with you.”

“What did he say?” asked Skye, hardly daring to breathe.

“That he and you were… you know,” said Coulson, quietly. “And that you were Hydra.”

Skye laughed, her voice hollow. “I wasn’t. I’m not. Please, Coulson, please believe me,” she said, suddenly worried, looking at him. “I’m not Hydra. Ward didn’t brainwash me.”

“I know,” said Coulson, looking at her seriously. “You’d never work for Hydra. But I’m still a little unclear on what your relationship with Ward actually was,” he said carefully, each word falling on Skye like an anvil.

She turned away from Coulson, and continued to stir. “I had no choice,” she said finally, working hard to keep her voice steady. “He gave me no choice.”

“Oh, Skye,” said Coulson, sounding devastated. Skye felt his eyes on her, knew that he had turned his whole body to face her, and it hurt, knowing that she was receiving one hundred percent of his attention – something she used to hope and pray would happen – when she knew she didn’t deserve it.

“I had to pretend to like it, in order to get Bucky. I had to go along with it,” she said, voice calm, keeping her eyes on the cocoa. She ached with the weight of everything she wasn’t saying;  how she had tried so hard to play Ward, but how scared she was that he had played her instead. How he had hurt her, how she had let herself be hurt. How Ward was still hurting her; how every morning when she was bent over the toilet, she knew she never really managed to get away from him.

“Jesus,” he murmured. He didn’t touch her or try to comfort her physically, which Skye was eternally grateful for, but he didn’t move away either. She wanted to tell him to stay where he was, she didn’t think she’d be able to keep it together if he didn’t stay right there, right next to her – she had no idea how she’d even begin to articulate such a request.

“It’s done,” she said quietly, turning the gas off. She poured two steaming cups of hot chocolate, placing his mug in front of him without looking at him in the eye.

“Cap told me you suffered,” said Coulson, finally. “He didn’t tell me much, but he seemed pissed.”

“Steve’s always pissed,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling, a little sadly. “He’s like a tiny hurricane. He’s always angry about something.”

“Is he?” said Coulson, surprised. “He never struck me as the type. Then again, I’ve only met him once. And well, he looked very, very different.”

“I never met Steve when he was all butch,” she said, taking a sip. The cocoa was hot, it burned her tongue a little. “I’ve only ever met the little guy.”

“Not having Captain America is a significant loss,” said Coulson, switching into Agent mode. “We really could have used Rogers in the field.”

“But now we have the Winter Soldier,” said Skye, taking another sip. “Bucky is so good he managed to take Steve down. He’s fighting on our side, that’s got to count for something.”

“You know, I’m still having a hard time believing this,” said Coulson. “First, we find out that the legend of the Winter Soldier isn’t actually a legend after all, and that the Soldier is _Bucky Barnes_ , of all people. Next, he’s skulking in corners in the Playground, scaring my scientists.”

Skye grinned. It was true, Bucky had been exceptionally asocial today, preferring to lurk in darkened corners, sitting so quietly that not a few people had received the fright of their lives, when they discovered that they were not as alone as they thought they were. Skye could tell that Bucky wasn’t trying to be frightening, that he was probably just feeling awkward about being around new people, but he wasn’t making it easy on himself. He actually _glowered_ at everyone who wasn’t Steve or Skye, his long hair and his metal arm forming a frightening picture. Fitz seemed especially disturbed by Bucky, and Jemma seemed to be dealing with her discomfort by smiling extra hard at him.

“Bucky’s my hero,” said Skye, smiling. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn to like him soon enough.”

“I already like him,” said Coulson. “He brought you back, didn’t he?”

Skye looked down at her cocoa, hiding her blush behind the curtain of her hair. She reached out and placed her hand over Coulson’s, squeezing slightly. They finished their hot chocolate in companionable silence.

 

* * *

 

Steve hit the red button and the treadmill came to an immediate stop. He bent over, audibly gasping for breath, finally taking the inhaler that Bucky had been trying to foist on him for the last fifteen minutes.

“Steve, what did you expect?” said Natasha, sounding annoyed. She was on the treadmill next to Steve, running swiftly and gracefully. She hadn’t even broken a sweat. “You need to learn your limitations.”

Steve flipped her off from the bench that Bucky had made him sit down on, unable to vocalize his derision for that idea just yet. Bucky laughed, a harsh and grating sound. “Steve Rogers knows no limitations,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Steve Rogers is a goddamn superhero, didn’t you hear?”

“I _am_ a goddamn superhero, Bucky,” said Steve, wheezing. He took another pull from the inhaler. He saw Sam give Natasha a worried look. “I saw that, Sam,” he said, irritated. “You’re all treating me like a delicate wilting flower.”

“That’s because you are a delicate wilting flower, sunshine,” said Bucky, equally irritated. “I could break you with my little finger.”

Steve glowered at Bucky, and opened his mouth to list all the various ways in which Bucky could go fuck himself, but he was pre-empted by Sam.

“Hey, hey, no one’s any kind of flower here,” said Sam, in a placating tone. He was starting to pant, trying to run as fast as Natasha. “But Steve, you’re not the same Steve Rogers you used to be. Natasha’s right, you need to learn when to stop.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not saying I should be able to lift a car with one hand anymore, but I should at least be able to run a _mile_ ,” he said. He looked down at his hands, suddenly overwhelmed with frustration. This stupid body. This stupid, limited body. When he had been Captain America, he always thought he wouldn’t mind going back to being skinny, and for the most part, he hadn’t. He no longer attracted the same kind of attention he used to, and that was an entirely positive development. But not being able to _do_ the same things that he used to do – that was killing him. He thought of the battles that were to come, the raids on the Hydra bases that he and Coulson had started talking about earlier today, and how he’d have to sit them out. He couldn’t even handle computers the way that Skye could – he was of absolutely no use to the team, without a functional body.

“You’re just as useful even if you can’t run a mile, Steve,” said Bucky, as if he was reading Steve’s mind.

“You’re our leader,” said Natasha. She increased her speed, finally showing signs of exertion. “You’re best equipped to make the big calls.”

“I just wish I could do more,” said Steve, but he gave Natasha a small smile in thanks.

“Could Captain Rogers come to the laboratory, please, it’s rather urgent,” came Simmons’s polite request over the intercom.

“That’s me, folks,” said Steve, standing up. He wiped the sweat off his face with the end of his oversized t-shirt and left the gym, with Bucky trailing after him. He smiled, privately. It was sweet that Bucky took any order meant for Steve to mean “Steve AND Bucky”, like they were an indivisible unit. Of course, he knew that Bucky was really following Steve around  out of a desire to stop Steve from doing something stupid or injurious to his health—but he still liked to have Bucky around. It had just been so long since the two of them had been together. They had been given such a miraculous second chance—Steve didn’t want waste a second of it being away from Bucky.

“Ah, Captain Rogers,” said Simmons, smiling sweetly at Steve as soon as he walked into the lab. “And… and Sergeant Barnes,” she said, a little less enthusiastically. “So nice to have you here.”

Steve smiled at her. “Hello, Jemma,” he nodded at her. He had tried to get her to call him “Steve” yesterday, to no avail; she stubbornly persisted in being in awe of him. His greeting would have to do for Bucky as well, he thought, wanting to groan as Bucky crossed his arms and glared at her. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, Fitz and I have been taking a look at your blood samples,” said Simmons, gesturing behind her, where Leo Fitz seemed to be hiding from Bucky. “And we’ve noticed some peculiar things,” she said.

“What kind of peculiar things?” asked Steve.

“Well, we don’t really think they’ve completely understood what they’ve done  to you,” said Simmons. “If they really did de-serum you, your blood would be coming back normal, and, well, it’s not,” she said.

“What do you mean, his blood isn’t normal?” demanded Bucky, gruffly. He glared at Simmons, like she was personally responsible for Steve’s irregular bloodwork.

“Come here,” said Fitz, pointing at his computer screen. They all gathered behind him, and Steve stared at the blood cells floating on the screen. They each had a dark stripe down the middle, which Steve didn’t think was normal. “We got Coulson to unlock some files on Cap’s bloodwork. They were way more classified than we were cleared for, but since SHIELD no longer exists, clearance doesn’t matter anymore,” explained Fitz. “This is Captain Rogers’s blood when he had the serum. Notice the stripe.” He hit a key and the image changed; more floating blood cells. These ones had the same stripe.

“More blood from when I had the serum?” asked Steve.

“No, actually,” said Jemma. “These are images from the sample we took from you yesterday.”

“These look exactly the same,” said Steve, confused.

“That’s the thing,” said Jemma. “If you really were ‘de-serumed’, the way Hydra was trying to do, your blood would look, well, normal.”

“But it looks the same, which makes us think they’ve only managed to give you a DNA blocker,” said Fitz.

“And there’s a very good chance that without another injection of the blocker, it will begin to break down,” finished Jemma, smiling.

“You mean that I’ve still got the serum,” said Steve, flatly.

“Might take a week, might take a month, might even take a year, but you’re going to be Captain America again,” said Fitz.

Steve looked at Bucky, who stared back without expression. His mouth flattened into a thin, unhappy line. “Well, isn’t that something,” murmured Steve.

“It also means that Hydra hasn’t yet figured out the secret of Dr. Erksine’s formula,” said Simmons. “Which is a very, very good thing. Of course, they’ve figured out how to make supersoldiers – they managed to alter Sergeant Barnes here,” she nodded at Bucky, “and they’ve achieved something with the Centipede program. But they haven’t come close to what Erksine accomplished.”

“Well, we can be grateful for that,” said Steve, his heart beating wildly.

“Pardon me for asking,” said Jemma, tentatively, “but is this good news?”

“It is,” said Steve, smiling at her. “It means I can fight again. That’s all I want to do.” And it was true, it was good news – exceptionally good news. He’d be able to fulfill a few promises he had made to Ward and Garrett, specifically the ones about taking them apart with his bare hands.

“Sorry we can’t give you a better estimate on when the blockers will be cleared,” said Fitz. “And I remember reading accounts of your transformation – it was painful, right? I’m guessing that you’ll experience even more pain this time around.”

“I can handle that,” said Steve, nodding. He could. He never was one to shy away from pain.

Bucky snorted. “Excuse me,” he said, not at all politely. “Steve and I have to discuss something.” He grabbed Steve by the arm and pulled. “C’mon, pal,” he muttered, dragging Steve from the lab.

“Jesus, Bucky, what?” yelped Steve, the second they were in the hallway, alone.

“ _I can handle that?_ ” repeated Bucky, incredulously. “You can handle extreme amounts of pain? Pain that almost killed you the first time around?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” protested Steve, but Bucky didn’t seem to hear him.

“I talked to Stark,” snapped Bucky, hand still clutching Steve’s narrow arm, “when you showed up in Europe, like you were goddamn Superman. Got the details from him. Your vitals were all over the place. They thought you weren’t gonna make it.”

“Well, I did,” shouted Steve, wrenching himself free from Bucky’s grip. “I survived. I’ll survive this, too.”

“You are such a fuckin’ martyr, you know that?” yelled Bucky. His face was red, his hair flew in his face, got caught in his mouth. “Jesus, Steve – when are you going to learn how to take care of yourself? Or at least show some goddamn self-preservation? Be scared, that you’re going to go through it again! Be scared, that they experimented on you like you were a lab rat!”

Steve stared at Bucky, anger overtaking him. “You don’t _want_ me to be Captain America again, do you?” he said, turning white.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t want that!” shouted Bucky, gripping Steve by the arms, pinning him against the wall. “I want you to be Steve Rogers. I want you to have stayed home, I want you to have married some dame, had some kids. I want you to be an old man, surrounded by grandchildren. I don’t want you running off and fighting Nazis every second of every day! I don’t want what happened to me…” he trailed off and hung his head. His hair fell forward, blocking Steve from seeing his expression. He breathed raggedly.

“Steve, I don’t have anyone else. You’re all I have. And you’re so willing to _kill_ yourself. I can’t watch you do it,” he said, quietly, releasing Steve, not quite looking at him.

“Bucky,” said Steve, softly. “Look at me, Bucky.” He reached up to caress Bucky’s cheek with his hand, forcing Bucky to look down at him. “You’re important to me. It’s not just about fighting, okay? It’s about you, too. You’re my priority now, not the world. I meant what I said – I’m never leaving you again.”

“I want _you_ to be your priority, dummy,” said Bucky, but his voice lacked its earlier heat. “I want you to put Steve Rogers first for a change, instead of me, instead of anyone.”

“I’ll try,” said Steve. “I can try. For you.”

“Thank you,” said Bucky, relieved. “Now, can you please stop trying to do Captain America workouts? Wait until you can, okay?”

“Okay,” said Steve, smiling softly. He could do that, for Bucky.

 

* * *

 

Skye fell flat on her back, groaning as she felt May’s hand circle her throat, her knee jutting into her solar plexus, pinning her definitively on the mat.

“Again,” said May, extending an arm. Skye took it, propelled herself up to a standing position. She crouched, getting into ready position, watching May carefully as she did the same. May attacked again, giving no warning as to how she would move, and Skye frantically blocked punch after creative punch. Within less than a minute, however, Skye was immobilized on her back, May’s arm wrapped around her neck, the other wrapped around her waist.

“At least you managed to block some hits,” said May, encouragingly, “and you lasted longer this time.” She helped Skye up.

Skye grit her teeth and crouched again. She thought knew what she was getting into, when she asked May to train her – but she had no idea. At least Ward hadn’t thought kicking her ass was educational. She exhaled slowly and ducked, narrowly missing May’s swinging fist.

“Stop thinking about him,” instructed May, demonstrating her irritating ability to read Skye’s mind.

“I’m not,” panted Skye, actually managing to connect a hit.

 “Yes, you are,” said May, knocking Skye flat on the ground with a sweeping kick. She extended her arm, which Skye took, wincing as May pulled her to her feet. “You’re dwelling,” said May, crouching low, in preparation for Skye’s attack. “It’s annoying.”

“Sorry for annoying you,” muttered Skye sarcastically, swinging out a kick. May caught her leg and threw it back towards her. She had to do a weird sort of pirouette to stabilize. May gave her no time to recover – she swept Skye’s feet out from under her, and Skye landed hard, on her tailbone. She cursed out loud, standing up gingerly, wincing as pain shot through her.

“You okay?” asked May. Skye thought she might look concerned. She could never really tell, with May.

“Yeah,” Skye lied, groaning, massaging her tailbone. She narrowly missed the punch May threw. “Oh god,” she moaned, wincing as she caught May’s fist, managing to fling it away from her body with some difficulty. “You’re really not gonna go easy on me, are you,” she said, in despair.

“Nope,” said May, kicking high. It caught Skye’s chin, and Skye fell back, ass once again connecting with the mat.

“Ready for another round?” said May, already in a fighting stance. She didn’t even seem to be breathing hard, let alone sweating.

“Jesus, give me a moment,” said Skye. “I think you broke me.”

“You’re doing good,” said May, encouragingly. “You’ve got nice form; Ward taught you well.”

“No he didn’t,” said Skye, bitterly. Her whole body throbbed in pain, and she let her head fall back onto the mat with a thud. “He probably undertrained me on purpose. Probably thought I’d be easier to break if I couldn’t really fight.” She wondered why she was saying what she was really thinking, to _May_ of all people. The workout had probably loosened her inhibitions.

“Ward’s not that complicated. There wasn’t any nefarious plan behind Ward picking you to train – he probably just wanted to spend time with you, Skye,” said May, quietly.

Skye frowned. Ward certainly _was_ capable of being that duplicitous. After all, he had slept with May in order to manipulate her. How could May say with such certainty that Ward hadn’t been playing some strange game with Skye?

“Yeah, he screwed around with the rest of us,” said May, as if she could hear Skye’s thoughts again. “But not with you. He… liked you,” she said, sourly, as if the idea was just as distasteful to her as it was to Skye.

Skye laughed, bitterly, her head falling back on the mat with a thud. She remembered his hands squeezing her neck, she remembered him threatening to kill her if he ever caught her with anyone else. If that was Ward liking her, she was curious to see what Ward hating her looked like.

“Look,” sighed May, her hands on her hips. “Don’t waste your time being scared of Ward, okay? Don’t make the mistake of overestimating him. At the core, Grant Ward is a stupid, whiny, entitled little child. He managed to go as long as he did in our crew on pure luck, not because he’s an especially formidable opponent.”

“I spent ten weeks with him,” said Skye quietly, hauling herself to a sitting position, “at his beck and call, May. I’m scared shitless of him.” She wondered, again, where her honesty came from.

“I don’t know why,” said May, lips quirking into a smile. “You fucked with his head harder than he ever fucked with us,” she said, looking at Skye with something that might have been pride. Skye’s eyes widened in shock, wondering how she knew, before realizing that Steve had had a private meeting with Coulson and May, earlier that morning. He must have told them something. “You could probably tell him to jump off a cliff and the poor bastard would do it,” said May, approval ringing in her voice.

“Don’t listen to everything Steve tells you,” grumbled Skye, pushing herself up to a stand. “When Ward finds out how I betrayed him, he’s going to come after me,” she said, vocalizing the fear she had been quietly nursing since they had reached the motel. She didn’t at all put it past Ward to break away from Garrett in order to find her and hurt her. He was obsessed with her. And despite what Steve and May thought, she didn’t feel like she was the one who held the power in the relationship, not one bit.

“He’ll be dead before he gets the chance to try anything,” said May, dismissively, crouching into position. Skye wearily mirrored her movements, getting ready for another attack. “We’ve got the Avengers hunting him. Not to mention, well, me.” May threw her first punch, which Skye managed to block. “Grant Ward is a dead man walking,” she said, this time hitting Skye squarely in the chest.

They finished their sparring in silence, save for Skye’s occasional grunts and cries of pain. May took off for the showers, and Skye declined to join her, deciding to take her frustration out on the punching bag. It felt good to actually _hit_ something. Fighting with May was like fighting the wind – almost none of her hits actually connected with anything solid. The punching bag, at least, was a tangible opponent. She imagined she was hitting Ward’s face as she pounded the bag into submission.

“Want to spar?”

Skye whipped her head around, looking for the source of the intrusion. Bucky emerged from the shadows, his arms crossed.

“How long have you been there?” asked Skye, breathing heavily.

“Want to spar?” repeated Bucky, a little louder. Skye rolled her eyes. Bucky really wasn’t doing all that much to dismantle his scary image. She wondered if he even wanted to. It might be useful, to be that intimidating. She sometimes wished that she had that effect on people. 

“Nah,” she said. “May sort of worked me over earlier. Where’s Steve?” she asked.

“Napping.”

“You bored?” she asked him.

He gave her a short, annoyed look. “No.”

“Bucky, are you hiding from people?” she asked, smiling.

“Maybe,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Skye laughed. “C’mon, you have to at least try to make friends. Have you met Hawkeye yet? Clint Barton? He’s supposed to be cool, right?”

“The guy who was looking for his socks, earlier? Yeah,” said Bucky, awkwardly. “He, uh, he didn’t look too happy to meet me. I kind of maybe shot him, once or twice,” he muttered, voice low.

“Okay, what about Natasha? She’s really, really cool.” Skye had had a breathless conversation with her earlier today, and was still kicking herself at how obviously in awe of the Black Widow she had come across. Natasha definitely didn’t seem too impressed with her.

“Same problem,” said Bucky, gruffly. “Shot her in the gut. She doesn’t like me very much.”

“And FitzSimmons look like they’re about to shit their pants whenever you walk into a room,” said Skye. “Did you shoot them, too?”

“No!” said Bucky, looking alarmed. “At least, I don’t think so,” he said, sadly.

Skye felt like laughing, but Bucky looked so morose she couldn’t bring herself to tease him.

“Buck up, Bucky,” she said, taking pity on him. “Let’s go get some Girl Scout cookies. Coulson is hiding them somewhere in his office. He has a fetish for Thin Mints, but I know for a fact that there’re Tagalongs somewhere in there too.”

“You have a key?”

“No, but I have with me Master Lockpick, Bucky Barnes,” she said, holding the door of the gym open for him, and grinning. “Yeah, Steve told me those stories. Something about you sneaking into Father Timothy’s office to steal test answers?”

Bucky smiled at her crookedly. They walked down the hallway, towards Coulson’s office. “Allegedly snuck into Father Timothy’s office,” he said. “Nothing was ever proven.”

As promised, Bucky managed to pick the lock, and the cookies were summarily found and decimated. Skye leaned back in Coulson’s swivel chair, her legs crossed on his desk, playing with Coulson’s (probably antique and collectable) letter opener. Bucky sat on the windowsill, meditatively finishing off the Samoas.

“These are good. I like coconut. Y’know, I don’t remember ever eating coconut before. I don’t know how I know about it.”

“Hell, maybe you never have had it before,” said Skye. “Maybe the brain scientists just like, implanted coconut onto you, maybe that’s how you know about it.

“Or I could have had coconut before I became the Winter Soldier,” said Bucky, frowning.

“I can’t imagine coconut was super available in pre-war America,” said Skye. She yawned and leaned back in her chair. “I’d Wikipedia it, but I don’t really care.”

“So sweet,” snorted Bucky, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “So you’re training with May, now?”

“Yeah,” said Skye. “Ten weeks of being stuck in a tiny cell  – it’s been rough. It’s good to get back into action.”

“Who was training you before?” asked Bucky.

“Ward,” she said, resolutely not looking at him.

“Ah.” He shifted uncomfortably. Skye tossed the letter opener in the air, catching it cleanly.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, after a moment.

“Fuck you,” said Skye, grinning.

Bucky laughed, and Skye joined in a moment later, after she got over the shock of hearing Bucky actually _laugh_. It was such a strong, pleasant sound. For the first time, she felt like she could understand why Steve had described Bucky as a lady’s man, back in the day.

“I could train you, if you wanted,” said Bucky. “I mean, May’s probably good too, I’ve watched her, she knows her stuff, but I could, you know—”

“That would be great, Bucky,” said Skye, cutting him off with a grin. “Just teach me how to do that cool knife trick, and we’re golden.”

“It’s not a _trick_ , that’s a _skill_ ,” said Bucky, irritably. “God, you’re as bad as Steve.”

The door opened, and Skye let the letter opener fall to the floor with a clatter.

“What the hell – Skye?” Coulson sputtered, indignantly. “C’mon, you guys ate my cookies!” he said, visibly deflating.

“That’s what you get for trying to hide the Thin Mints, A.C.,” said Skye, popping the last one in her mouth with a flourish. Bucky hid a grin.

“We need to have a chat about security protocols,” grumbled Coulson, as Bucky and Skye filed past him.

Skye stopped in front of Coulson, and on an impulse straightened his tie. She grinned at him brilliantly. “Thanks for the sugar, darling,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. Bucky laughed and she followed him out the door.

 

* * *

 

Coulson stood in the same place long after she left. He touched the spot where she kissed him, gazed at the chair she had sat in. His heart pounded uncomfortably, every nerve ending in his body felt alive. _This is going to be a problem_ , he thought to himself.

 

* * *

 

Skye’s eyes flew open as she heard the blood-curdling scream. She sat up, no trace of tiredness left in her body, though she had been fast asleep mere seconds earlier. She threw the sheet that covered her onto the floor and ran out of her room, not bothering to pull on pajama pants. She ran into the next room, where the screaming was coming from.  Steve was screaming, writhing in pain. His naked body thrashed on the sheets and sweat shined on his skin. Bucky stood next to the bed, equally nude, trying to hold Steve down without hurting him, face white with fear.

“What the fuck is going on?” yelled Skye.

“I don’t know! He just started screaming, all of a sudden!” shouted Bucky, who was trying to wrestle Steve down onto the bed.

Skye stepped forward, and then stopped, unsure of what to do – she didn’t want to crowd Steve, but she couldn’t just _stand_ there, could she?

“I’ll go get Simmons,” she said, finally, turning to leave. “Maybe she can give him a tranquilizer or something.”

“No, wait!” cried Steve. Skye turned around to look at Steve. Tears streamed down his face. “This is it,” he gasped, turning to Bucky. Skye turned white. That sounded _morbid_ , she thought. “Whatever they gave me is breaking down,” he said, clutching Bucky’s forearm.

“What is he talking about?” asked Skye, panic in her voice.

“The blockers,” said Bucky, over Steve’s low whine of pain. “The thing blocking the serum. It’s breaking down. The serum is coming back.”

Skye’s jaw dropped. “What?” she said, stunned.

“Captain America’s coming back,” croaked Steve. His eyes were bloodshot. His face, his chest, they seemed to be _rippling_ , almost like the bones inside were breaking and rearranging themselves.

Steve grit his teeth and looked at Skye.

He grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want, you can follow me on my [tumblr](http://www.threepiohasnochill.tumblr.com), for updates and stuff, and if you want to ask me questions. It's literally only used for fic writing purposes, I have a different personal blog.


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